


Claimed

by CAlister



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Camp Half-Blood, F/F, F/M, Fauns & Satyrs, Fluff, Help, M/M, My First Fanfic, Original Character(s), Prophecy, Romance, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-05 00:58:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15158936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CAlister/pseuds/CAlister
Summary: Meet Kate, an oblivious demigod whose world is suddenly turned upside down when a cyclops is sent to her house to kill her. Luckily, her guardian satyr reaches her just in time, and, though battered and bruised, she is successfully whisked away to Camp Half-blood. New campers crash into her life (literally), and it seems as though Kate can finally be happy. That is, until her mother is murdered. Join Kate and the Happy Death Bunch as they travel across the country killing things, burning tacos, and just generally trying not to die!





	1. Of Nightmares and Cyclopes

**Author's Note:**

> Hi so this is admittedly my first FanFiction, and it is a story that I am using to hopefully regain what skill I lost on my year hiatus. I waited a long time to get on this site, and I am so happy to finally get started! Please let me know what you think in the comments, and I hope you enjoy!

Kate awoke to the sound of her own screams, the memory of a nightmare clinging to the faintest corners of her mind. She felt a sigh rise within her, and just as quickly as it came, her fear faded into exhaustion. She let herself fall backwards into the safety of pillows, relishing the feel of the breeze on her sweat-soaked face and watched the moonlight play along the shadows of her room. The glowing light of the alarm clock claimed one in the morning, and the fatigue weighing Kate down knew this to be true, but sleep was the furthest thing from her mind. If she slept, she knew it would come back, knew there would be nothing but terror waiting for her in the false security of rest, and so just as she’d done for the last five nights, Kate slung her feet over the side of the bed and threw herself into the night.

The doorknob turned silently beneath her fingers, and as always, Kate thanked the stars for her mother’s heavy sleeping. The first few nights, her mother had dashed into her room, panic written clearly across her face at the sound of her daughter’s screams. After another four nights, worried rushing faded into a barely noticeable murmur from behind closed doors. Nightmares were nightmares, after all, and no matter how many times dark-lit faces and burnishing flames plagued Kate’s mind, one fact remained the same - there was nothing her mother could do. That’s how Kate found herself wandering beneath the stars, slippers whispering softly against the sidewalk, thoughts racing a mile a minute. Silent images of armor clad men, burning torches, and mutilated bodies haunted her mind’s eye, and she shook back her long brown hair as though she could shake away the horrifying memories with it. It didn’t work; she knew it wouldn’t work, and yet she couldn’t stop the wave of disappointment that rose within her. She wished, not for the first time, that she could simply become part of the night, to fade into the rustling of the wind in the leaves, to meld with the soft beams of moonlight that lit the empty streets; to disappear into a bliss that could only accompany true oblivion. She wished and she wished and she forced herself to fight off another inevitable wave of disappointment. Because no matter how many times she wished it, she was still only herself, freezing and alone and afraid.

Well, maybe not alone. As Kate turned the corner of the street, she couldn’t help but feel that she wasn’t quite alone; the invasive pressure of an unseen gaze followed her with every step, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Her eyes flitted from house to house, landing on trees and bushes and fences, but no matter where she looked, she saw no one else. She was alone, but the feeling of being watched never escaped her. It’s nothing, she told herself, tucking a strand of fallen hair behind her ears, you’re imagining it. If you hadn’t’ve had that nightmare -

Her foot caught on concrete, and she was on the ground before she had time to register that she’d fallen. Her head hit the ground with a sickening crack, her vision blurring as she felt the pain spread from her temples all the way down to her toes. Groaning, Kate rolled onto her back, hands flying to her head, coming away sticky and wet and red. Of course she’d fall, because nothing could ever be peaceful. Except this was, suddenly. Maybe it was the numbness from the pain or the silence or the stars, but as Kate lay on the side of the street, her thoughts seemed to settle. Thousands of stars shone against the black of the night, and a small smile flickered across her face. Instinctively, she began picking out constellations, eyes dancing from image to image into a calm drowsiness tugged at her eyelids. She really believed she could fall asleep here, absurd though it was. Faintly, she wondered what she might look like to anyone who happened to glance outside; a short bloody girl in an over-sized t-shirt and slippers lying spread-eagle on the sidewalk and smiling up at the stars. She stopped wondering what she might look like and started wondering how likely it was that someone would call a mental-health professional.

She wondered if she should call a mental-health professional.

She decided on no. Admittedly not because she didn’t need one, but because it would require too much explaining. Thinking back to her dream, she knew she’d have no idea where to begin, and so she simply continued to lie there, pressing her hand against her head and looking up at the stars.

Or at least, that’s what she would have continued to do had a pair of wide brown eyes not suddenly appeared above her.

“You need to run. Now.”

The whisper cut through the night, ringing louder than the rustling of the leaves, and for a moment, all Kate could do was stare. It was a boy, she saw that now, a boy with curling dark hair and wide eyes that shone with fear. It was that fear that scared her the most, and the knowledge that she must have been right about being watched. Without thinking, without knowing if it was right or wrong, Kate snapped up her leg and kicked him between his.

She winced as her foot connected, rushing to stand as the boy keeled over. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to -” Kate cut herself off, hands over her mouth. “Are you okay?”

“What the hell?” he asked. His voice was hoarse, incredulous, and Kate had to force herself to swallow another apology.

“Who are you?” she shot back. She felt herself backing away, her guilt and surprise giving way to a growing distrust. He was scrawny, but he was also taller than her, and if it came to a fight, she wasn’t sure that she could win. Still, she thought, hands tightening at her sides, I’ll give him one hell of a fight. She tried to ignore the fact that her fighting would most likely consist of biting.

“I can explain later, but for now we have to go.” Any pain he had felt fled in the face of his terror, his eyes pleading with her, beseeching her to believe him. For a moment, Kate fought the urge to reach out to him.

“Are… are you okay? Did you take something?”

“No! No, I just - Kate, look out!”

Kate spun, heart racing in her chest as the boy leapt forward, shoving her to the side just as a glimmering blade cleaved the ground where she had been standing. For the second time that night, Kate found herself slamming against concrete, fresh pain lighting her body on fire. Spots danced across her vision, a ringing echoing in her ears, but she knew she had to move. She felt the strange boy roll to the side; she followed him just in time.

The blade before her was an ax, bright as the stars above, and it was almost as massive as the person carrying it. Its shadow blocked the night sky, its roar shook the leaves harder than the wind, and whatever fear Kate had felt before tripled. She shot a glance to the side, but the boy offered her no reassurance. Instead he looked at her with those same pleading eyes, face pale and sunken and terrified. “I told you to run.”

She ran.

This might not come as a shock, but slippers are not exactly conducive to running. Kate muttered a curse beneath her breath, glancing over her shoulder to see if the boy had followed, and as she took in the scene behind her, she skidded to a halt. The boy clutched a dagger in his hand, laughably small in the face of the behemoth, but what he lacked in size, he made up for in speed. His feet seemed to blur as he darted in between wild slashes, but each dodge seemed slower than the last. “What are you doing?” she shouted, stepping forward before she could catch herself. “You can’t fight that!”

“Do you want to die?”

“Do you?”

No answer came, and Kate shifted, uncertain. She knew she couldn’t help, but the soft cries of battle drew her forward. If she left him alone, he would die; that much she could tell. But what could she do? Her eyes searched the street, the walk, the bushes, looking for something - anything - that would help. Rocks? A rock? She bent to the ground, fingers clutching the stone in a vise-like grip. It was small, hardly anything of note, and if she hadn’t’ve been desperate, she never would have noticed it. Taking a deep breath, she pulled back her arm and threw.

The stone clattered uselessly to the ground several feet away from the goliath. The sound vanished amid the roar of the beast, disappeared beneath the thud of the ax as it met the ground, and any hope Kate had had blew away with the wind. Her heart caught in her throat, eyes stinging with frustration. “Hey!” she shouted. “Hey, you!”

Admittedly it was not her finest plan, but it was better than a poorly aimed rock. The giant and the boy turned in unison, shocked at her outburst; the giant was the first to recover. He took off with great lumbering strides, ax swinging at his side, ground shaking beneath his gargantuan feet, and Kate began to run for the second time that night. Pausing to kick off her slippers, she raced for the corner. She knew she was only delaying the inevitable; she was 5’-2” and he was 5’-300”, but when she saw the bruised and battered boy that had stayed behind for her, she knew she made the right choice. So she raced for the corner with everything she had.

She almost made it, too. With one fluid motion, the giant swung his ax and buried the blade in her shoulder.

Pain like a thousand knives exploded through her body, dizziness blanketing her mind and quieting her thoughts. She could hear him moving, hear his thundering steps, his satisfied laugh, but she couldn’t bring herself to move, couldn’t bring herself to speak. The glimmer of moonlight on metal shone through the night, and she let out a soft breath. She closed her eyes.

But the blow never came. Instead, there was a loud screech, the cry of speeding tires on pavement. Nimble hands pulled at her arms, her stomach, sending fresh waves of pain arcing through her body. Something heavy thudded to the ground beside her, and as her vision began to fade into darkness, Kate thought she could just make out a single eye in the middle of the giant’s forehead. Then her world went black.


	2. Golden Girls and Goat Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kate is exposed to the secrets of the world; gods and monsters and creatures previously unbeknownst to her.

She opened her eyes to the sound of music. The sweet, sharp notes of a violin drifted on the wind, the lilting melody rolling over her in waves. It was the most captivating sound Kate had ever heard, and as she blinked in the early morning light, she couldn’t help but think that the girl playing it was just as enthralling.

Kate let out a soft sigh. Framed in the brilliant rays of the sun, the girl’s very being seemed to glow with an ethereal brightness. Golden hair, pale skin, flowing white dress; she was the image of elegance, so delicate that Kate feared she would break apart at the slightest touch. She stood with her eyes closed, swaying as though losing herself in her music, her back turned slightly to the bed on which Kate rested. Kate wished for a moment that she would continue playing forever, continue creating those sweetest notes until Kate drifted back to sleep. Unfortunately, she also wished quite desperately to know where she was, so Kate pushed herself onto her elbows and cleared her throat.

The girl froze midnote. As the song faded into the morning, the entire room seemed to still, and the glow that had lit the girl from within dulled to dim shine. She smiled, blue eyes sparkling. “Hello.”

Her voice was lyrical, smooth. Almost as lilting as the instrument she played. “Hi,” Kate said, and immediately winced. Compared to the softness of the girl, she was startingly hoarse. She cleared her throat again.  
There were a thousand questions she wanted to ask, a thousand and one as the events of the past night flooded to her (was it last night? The night before? Kate added that to her list of questions), and Kate hadn’t the faintest idea where to start. So, picking the simplest one, she asked, “who are you?”

For a moment, the girl simply stared. She didn’t seem cold or distant, merely confused, as though Kate’s question didn’t quite register. After a moment, though, understanding dawned in her eyes, and she let out a laugh. “Oh! Oh, right.” She lowered her violin, letting it hang from the tips of her fingers, and said, “My name’s Emma. You’re Kate, right? Hopefully - otherwise, I’m in the wrong room.”

“What room is that, exactly?” Kate brushed a stray stand of hair from her eyes, and pushed herselg up until she was sitting up properly. Belatedly, she cringed, expecting a jolt of pain as she placed her weight on her left shoulder. To her surprise, nothing came. She rolled her arm. Poked the skin. Nothing. Had she been dreaming?

“It wasn’t a dream,” Emma said. Kate’s head snapped up, eyes wide. Emma grinned, a mischevious twinkle in her eye. “Don’t worry, I can’t read minds. It’s always one of the first questions, so I just figured I’d get it out of the way.” She crossed the room, and Kate took the time to survey her surroundings. It was a small thing, with one window, a rickety old bed, and a dresser on the far side of the room. It was by no means lavish, but Kate found herself admiring the rustic atmosphere anyway. It was the type of house her mother had always dreamed of.

It was the dresser that Emma strode towards; more specifically the open violin case resting on top of it. She laid down her instrument with all the gentleness of a mother and her child, tucking the bow neatly along its side. She picked up a glass of golden liquid. “The next one is usually ‘how did I get here?’ Were you going to ask ‘how did I get here?’”

Kate accepted the glass of liquid hesitantly, peering into its contents with great apprehension. Choosing to ignore it for the moment rather than risking possible drugs/poison/apples, Kate instead decided to answer. “Probably more focused on where here is. Though, now that I think about it,” Kate mused, “how is also a good question.”

“Aha! I can, in fact, answer both,” Emma declared with a smile. She leaned against the window sill, the translucent curtains billowing slightly around her. She didn’t seem to mind, as her eyes never once left Kate. 

“You got here by car. Not a very good one, if I say so, but Rhys always hates when I say so, so you didn’t hear it from me.” She rolled her eyes, smiling at Kate as though they shared this secret with one another. “As for where here is, you are in room … 13? 17?” She tossed her shoulders in a shrug and glanced at Kate apologetically. “You’re at a summer camp in Long Island.” This was said simply, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, and Kate sat back, take off guard.

“A summer camp,” she said slowly, as though it would make more sense if she did. It didn’t. Kate paused, letting her confusion stretch into a long drawn silence; if the girl minded, she didn’t show it. Finally: “... why?”

“Do you remember what happened before you fell unconscious?” Emma asked gently. “The night Mike came to get you?”

The image of a boy flashed to Kate’s mind, curly hair wild and faced flushed with fear. She guessed this must be Mike, though he had never given her a name. As the rest of the events from that night flooded her memory, she realized it was with good reason. “There was … a man. At least, I think it was a man.” Kate hesitated. She must sound crazy - of course it was a man. What else could it have been? But if Emma thought her uncertainty strange, she made no indication, simply nodding for Kate to continue. 

“He had an ax, a huge ax, and he tried to kill us,” Kate said, “he really could have killed us.” Suddenly, this profound realization sunk in. When it had been happening, when the giant and the ax and the boy had all been there, she hadn’t realized what was truly at stake. But now, as she sat safely in the warm embrace of the bed, she knew just how close to death she had come. Kate swallowed, licked her lips. Forced herself not to drink from the glass. “But Mike. Mike was there. He was fighting that - that thing, and he gave me time to run away. I would have done it, but he started slowing down, and…” she trailed off. “Is Mike okay?”

“He’s fine,” Emma assured her. “But for right now, I need you to talk to me. Did you see anything? Notice anything about the man?” She stumbled over the last word, and Kate paused. Maybe…

“It seemed… Well, it seemed as though he only had one eye.”

Emma brightened, a brilliant grin spreading across her face. “Yes, exactly!” she exclaimed. Kate raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t certain what reaction she had been expecting from Emma - mocking laughter, a roll of the eyes, a teasing remark - but she certainly hadn’t imagined the delight that Emma radiated. “Kate,” she said, her voice thick with excitement, “you’re here - at a summer camp - because you’re special. Wait, that doesn’t sound right. Well, it does, because it’s true, so it’s not that it doesn’t sound right, it just doesn’t -”

“Emma,” Kate prompted.

“Right. Sorry. Kate, you’re here because you’re the daughter of a Greek god.”

The statement hung in the air. Had she heard that right? She couldn’t have. Emma watched her silently, so serious and genuine that Kate was certain she had misheard; after all, if Emma had said what Kate thought she had said, there would surely be some trace of mirth hidden in her face. “I’m the daughter of a what?”

“A Greek god. An Olympian, a deity, etctera etcetera.”

Kate shook her head slowly, staring incredulously at the girl in front of her. This time she was certain she heard correctly; she had been paying too close attention for it to be anything different. She was also certain that Emma was certifiably insane. Either that or she was an amazing actress. “Okay, no,” she said, pushing herself off of her elbows. Kate threw aside the covers and slid out of the bed, relieved to find herself still dressed in her over-sized t-shirt. “Sorry, but I really should be heading ho-”

“No, wait!” Emma darted forward, sliding easily between Kate and the door, and rested her hand on Kate’s shoulder. “Please, wait. I’m sorry, I’m not doing a very good job at explaining this. Just - here, hang on a second.” She turned around and opened the door, poking her head outside. A bright-lit hallway lay beyond, and a painting of what appeared to be a half-horse, half-man in a prom dress. Emma spoke a few words and withdrew back into the room. She smiled lightly. “He’ll be here in just a second.”

Kate didn’t bother asking who - it’s not like it would have done her any good. So she simply retreated further back into the room, placing herself by the window on the far wall. It wouldn’t hurt to be as far away from these strangers as possible, or as close to an alternate exit as possible. She glanced outside, hoping beyond hope that they were on the first floor. No such luck. Rolling hills stretched out beneath her, some fify feet below, and Kate pulled back, suddenly nauseous. She turned back to the door; if she were to escape, it would be through there.

Unfortunately, that very door was currently being blocked, blocked by a very familiar looking boy with curly brown hair and twinkling brown eyes. “Mike?” Kate asked tentatively. She hoped to god that was actually his name, and judging by the brilliant grin that covered his face, it was.

“Kate! You’re awake. Finally. I thought we were gonna have to light a funeral pyre for a moment there.” He chuckled lightly, then noticed no one else was doing the same. He cleared his throat. “Sorry. Not funny.” Mike stepped into the room, his gait uneven, and plopped himself onto the bed. “I really am glad you’re all right,” he said softly. He met her gaze, chocolate eyes open and sincere, and Kate found herself relaxing. 

She perched herself on the edge of the bed. Leaning towards him, she began her scrutiny; her gaze raked his arms, his face, his neck. There were no signs of a scuffle, his dark skin smooth and unblemished with no sign of the injuries he’d suffered the night before. “Are you okay? I thought you were…” She trailed off, unsure exactly how that sentence was supposed to end.

Mike smiled, patting her hand in reassurance. “Never been better. You should see the other guy,” he joked. Kate grimaced, mind filled with images of the behemoth and the glimmering weapon she had seen from far too close. Mike glanced at her apologetically. “He’s gone now, Kate. There’s nothing to be afraid of. But,” he said, “there is something you need to know.” He looked at Emma, who was still standing uncertainly by the door, and took a deep breath. When he looked back at Kate, his expression was serious, all trace of earlier laughter vanished. “What Emma told you was true. The gods are real.”  
Kate opened her mouth, about to object, but Mike held up a hand. “I know it sounds crazy. But I also know that you remember what attacked us last night. And,” Mike said, “there’s this.” He lifted his legs onto the bed, and, without ceremony, pulled up his pants leg. Underneath, where there should have been skin and feet, were shaggy fur and cloven hooves. Kate blinked several times to make sure she was seeing properly. She was. She set down the glass of golden liquid.

“You’re …. a goat?” The question sounded just as ridiculous out loud as it did in her head, but Mike simply smiled, nodding his head reluctantly.

“Essentially, yes. I’m a satyr. Half-goat, half-man, and I can say with 130% certainty that the gods are completely and unfortunately real.”

“Mike,” Emma warned.

“Right, sorry. Completely and fortunately real,” he amended, winking at Kate. Kate simply stared back at him, mind refusing to absorb everything the odd pair had told her; she reached out, hand hovering inches away from Mike’s leg.

“May I?” she asked. He hesitated, looking between her and his leg before nodding his consent. The fur was thick, stiff, and the flesh underneath was warm and alive and all too real. Her fingers traveled down to his hoof, feeling the cool, hard keratin and how it melded seamlessly with the rest of his leg. She peered up at him, uncertain. “It’s real?”

“Hopefully. Otherwise, I’ve been lied to my whole life. And my mom would have a lot of explaining to-”

“Kate, I know it’s a lot to take in,” Emma interjected lightly, sitting neatly beside her on the bed. She brushed a strand of golden hair behind her ears, staring beseechingly at Kate from beneath long lashes. “But we are telling you the truth. The gods are real, and that man that attacked you? He’s one of the cyclopes, the one-eyed sons of Poseidon. Please, find it in your heart to at least try to believe us.” 

Kate studied the girl beside her; her golden hair glowing in the sun, nearly imperceptible beads of sweat glistening on her pale face; her clear blue eyes shining with determination. And Kate found herself believing.  
“Okay,” she said, rolling the word over her tongue, “let’s say I did believe you. Who exactly is this godly parent of mine?” Admittedly, Kate knew very little about Greek mythology, so there was little chance she’d recognize any name given to her. She did, however, know what aspects gods typically represented, and her mind drew up fantasies of the goddess of love, or knowledge, or magic. Given her luck, she would end up with the god of clumsiness or sleep.

“That we don’t know,” Emma admitted with a shrug of her shoulders. She sat a little straighter, smoothing the fabric of her dress with a nonchalant hand, and smiled up at Kate, clearly relieved at the new direction the conversation was taking. “Gods claim their children when they arrive at camp, usually before their first campfire. They’ve been extra diligent since the whole Kronos fiasco.”

Kate nodded quietly as though she knew what Emma meant. She wasn’t sure she was ready to delve into their reality and was resigned to learn only what pertained to her. The ‘Kronos fiasco’ was in the past, so she ignored it and leaned back on her palms. “Are you a satyr, too?” she asked curiously.

Emma and Mike shared a glance, mirth twinkling in their eyes. They couldn’t help it - they burst out laughing. Mike pulled down his pants leg as Emma wiped away stray tears, both shaking silently as they attempted to force down their amusement. “No,” Emma said, struggling to keep her voice straight, “no, I’m a demigod like you; the daughter of a god. Care to guess which one?” She smiled slightly, expectantly.  
Given the violin and the lyrical lilt to her voice, Kate did not hesitate. “The god of music.”

Emma grinned proudly, casting a loving look at her beloved instrument. “I guess I gave it away before we even started the game, huh?” She closed her eyes, basking in the sunlight and said, “Apollo, god of music, poetry, the sun. Archery, too, though I’ve never been the best with a bow.”

Mike rolled his eyes, nudging his friend in the side. “If there’s anything you’re not brilliant at, I’ll give up my pipes and join the Hunters of Artemis.”

Emma scoffed. “Please. You wouldn’t be able to swear off men.”

“True,” Mike mused.

“Is there a Greek Mythology crash course I could take?” Kate asked weakly, their terminology flying over her head. Vaguely, she wondered if she was truly excepting Emma’s explanation, wondered if she believed in cyclopes and gods and satyrs. Wondered where her mother was and if she was worrying about Kate.

¨There’s a video,” Emma offered, “but it’s really quite boring. What about a tour instead?” She turned to Mike, eyebrow raised. “Did you forget to call Jesse or is he just late? Jesse,” she added, looking back at Kate, “is a son of Aphrodite. He’s supposed to show you around, but he’s also notoriously late. I’ll forgive him today, though, because none of us were certain when you’d actually wake.”

“After day four, three - maybe even two - you get kind of tired of waiting,” Mike said, defensive. 

“Hold up. Day four?” Kate exclaimed. “How long have I been unconscious?”

Emma reached for Kate’s hand, and Kate felt her breath quicken, heartbeat racing. “Well,” she said gently, “about a week. But that isn’t so unusual!” she added quickly, sensing Kate’s apprehension. “You went through a lot that night, and your shoulder was very badly injured. By the time Rhys got you back to camp, you’d lost a lot of blood.”

Kate cringed at the memory, hand reaching instinctively for her injured shoulder. She could still feel the kiss of the blade, the grinding of ax on bone as it sank too far into her flesh; she could still feel her blood gushing from between her fingers, spilling all too quickly onto the hard pavement below. But those were only memories. Only a faint, white scar remained as a testament to that night, the pain and wound miraculously vanished. “How… how is this possible? How can I be healed?”

Emma sat forward, reaching for the cup of golden liquid that Kate had discarded, and grinned widely. “Care for a sip?”

Kate accepted the glass, every bit as hesitant as she was before. This time, though, she lifted the cup and took the straw in her mouth. 

She nearly dropped it. Despite the half-melted ice cubes, the drink was warm, balmy. And the taste… it was melting chocolate chip cookies and sticky cinnamon rolls all wrapped into one. That combination shouldn’t work, she thought absentmindedly, but my god it does. Before she knew what she was doing, she had drained half the cup, and she most certainly would have downed the rest had Emma not slipped the glass from between her fingers.

“That’s probably enough for now,” she said lightly. “Wouldn’t want you exploding on your first day.”

“Seventh,” Mike corrected.

“Exploding?” Kate countered.

“It’s nothing really. Just it’s nectar, the drink of the gods. Give it to demigods in controlled doses and they’re fine,” Emma explained, “but give them a large dose and….”

“Kabloom,” Mike said, making a miniature explosion with his hands. Kate’s eyes widened, her throat tightening at the memory of the potentially combustible liquid, and at Kate’s terrified expression, Mike smiled reassuringly. “We’d never let that happen to you,” he said, “I wouldn’t let that happen to you. After all, I went through all that trouble to save you from the cyclops. It’d be a shame for you to die here.”  
Kate nodded, the jest in his voice setting her mind at ease. Though she knew it was irrational, the room, these people, all of it calmed her in a way she hadn’t thought possible since the nightmares began, and she was loath to let that feeling slip through her fingers. “I -”

“I’m here!”

The door blew open with a thud, the frame shaking from the force. Standing on the threshold was a fair-haired boy, face flushed with the heat of recent exercise and a grin that lit his entire face. He beamed at Kate. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Jesse, your tour guide. That is, unless you don’t like the tour. If you don’t like the tour, my name is Rhys.”

“One day you’re going to have to introduce me to this Rhys,” Kate said, sliding off the edge of the bed. Glancing at Emma’s dress, she tugged self-consciously at the hem of her shirt, pulling it down as far as she could over her bare legs. Luckily, Jesse didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he pointedly ignored it. Still, walking around camp in only a t-shirt was probably not the first impression she was going for.

“And when that day comes, you will have my sincerest apologies,” he replied. He have her a lopsided grin and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”  
She glanced uncertainly at Mike and Emma, suddenly hesitant, but the pair simply smiled their quiet assurances. Emma took her hand, squeezing it in comfort. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you at dinner later, okay?” She smiled lightly, and Kate found herself nodding.

“I’ll be there, too,” Mike added, “not that anyone cares.”

“I care,” Emma said, “just not enough to mention it.” She stuck her tongue out at the satyr, and Mike rolled his eyes.

Kate felt herself laughing, and for the first time since the fight with the cyclops, she was content. She turned to Jesse, accepting his arm. “I’m ready,” she said, and meant it.

Together, they made their way through the house and out into Camp Half-Blood.


	3. Camp Life is the Best Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kate receives a tour of the camp and Rhys finally makes an appearance.

“So? What would you like to see first?” Jesse asked. He turned to Kate, slipping his arm out from underneath hers. “The volleyball court? The strawberry fields? The lava-spewing rock wall?”

Kate froze. “Wait, what was that last one?”

“Lava-spewing rock wall. Doesn’t every summer camp have one of those?” Jesse smiled and reached for her hand, pulling her down the large front steps of the Big House. Stretching before her were grassy rolling hills and a beautiful valley tucked neatly in between them; her eyes fell on laughing campers, mismatched cabins, arts and crafts, and, true to Jesse’s word, a lava-spewing rock wall. She watched the campers scramble to avoid the burning substance and winced. Jesse laughed, a clear light sound that Kate found herself wishing to hear again. “Don’t worry,” he said, “we have an excellent infirmary.”

“If you don’t mind, could you… explain a bit more before you show me around?” Kate asked, eyes still fixed on the scurrying climbers. She shot a cautious glance at the son of Aphrodite. She wasn’t sure if Jesse was ordered to be here or came because he wanted to, but either way she was hesitant to demand more of him. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind, instead rewarding her with another one of his kind smiles.

“Of course. But explaining might be a bit easier if I can show you what I’m talking about. Come on,” he said. He pulled her down the hill and through the camp grounds; many of the campers called out to him, waving as they passed, and Jesse answered their greetings enthusiastically. Every once in a while, he pointed to Kate as if to say, ‘sorry, can’t talk! New meat!’ She ducked behind Jesse, grateful for his height.

“They don’t bite,” he said over his shoulder, chuckling slightly; Kate only shook her head in response. They probably didn’t, but that was besides the point. These people, all of them were from a world that Kate had never been a part of. She spotted campers with horns, and hooves like Mike, and that girl just turned into a tree for Christ’s sake; no, they probably didn’t bite, but they were what Kate had only dreamed of. Seeing them all here, in what she thought to be reality, was overwhelming in a way that Kate couldn’t describe.

Jesse seemed to sense this, slowing his pace and squeezing her hand in comfort. “We’re here,” he said, turning around and taking both of Kate’s hands in his. He walked backwards, pulling her deeper into what appeared to be a square of cabins. He stopped them both in the center, grinning. “Time for a guessing game. First, what do you know about Greek Mythology?”

Kate thought for a moment. “Well. They have a bunch of gods, but only a few are in most of the stories, right? And the main god, the king, sleeps with everyone,” she recalled. She thought for a moment more, then simply shrugged. This was the extent of her knowledge, the result of several of her best friend’s late night rants. It was only now that Kate wished she had paid more attention.

Jesse seemed satisfied, though, throwing back his head and letting loose another one of his clear, contagious laughs. “Perfect!” he exclaimed. “You already know everything you need to know.”

The sky above their heads darkened, storm clouds roiling where there had previously been an open blue expanse. Kate jumped as a clap of thunder shook the ground. Jesse only grimaced, face tilted to the heavens. “Sorry!” He sighed. “Right. Moving on.” He pointed to one of two cabins at the far end of the square, a brilliant marble building that towered above the rest. Images of lightning flashed across the sides, thunder booming in a continuous loop, and large bronze double doors loomed above everyone that passed. “That’s Zeus’s cabin. He’s the King of the Gods, as you so aptly mentioned, and very much hates insults, as he so aptly displayed. God of thunder, lightning, the sky.” He shifted his hand so that it was pointing to the one beside it and glanced back at Kate. “What’s he the god of?”

She narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing the cabin. This one was long and low, a trident hanging neatly over the door. Kate let her eyes flutter closed, breathing in the sharp scent of sea salt and ocean waves. “The sea,” she said. It was a statement, not a guess; he was starting the game off easy. He motioned to the next cabin, a question in his eyes.

Rock music blared from inside a poorly painted red cabin. She raised her eyebrows, spotting the severed boars head hanging above the door and the menacing barbed wire lining the roof. “Testosterone?” she asked.

“A very important god indeed,” Jesse said seriously, nodding. His flat expression didn’t last long, a characteristic smile sliding back across his face. “Ares, the god of war.”

He pulled her to the next cabin, then the next, and the next, offering small explanations at each one. There was Apollo, Hephaestus, Hermes, and Hades; Iris, Hypnos, Nemesis. There were more cabins than Kate wished to count, each one an apparent relative and deity. But according to Jesse, godly DNA didn’t work like human DNA, and so he made a point of the fact that two campers of opposite genders could not be alone in a cabin together. Kate decided not to point out that that rule had obvious shortcomings, but by the gleam in his eye, she figured it was safe to assume that the campers were well aware.

They wound up in front of the Athena cabin, having walked around a good four or five times - the number of times it took for Kate to pass Jesse’s test. She liked this one the least and that was due entirely to the fact that it was the most boring. It was a plain old thing with grey walls and white curtains and an owl over the door in place of a boars head or a trident or gears. Cabin Number Six. It was this cabin that Jesse strode towards, climbing up the stairs and slipping through the door, knocking only once to signal his presence. Kate followed him, uncertain.

The inside was nothing like the exterior.

Where the outside was characterized by a notable lack of decor, the interior was an explosion of devices, blueprints, models. Bunk beds were shoved to the side so as to take up as little room as possible, the majority of the space dedicated to stacks upon stacks of books, and projects, so many projects that Kate had trouble really noticing any of them. The children of Athena were currently absorbed in these, only a couple looking up at their entrance, and only one nodding in acknowledgement. Jesse nodded back before approaching a dark-haired boy in the far corner of the cabin, head bent over a thick book. He tapped him on the shoulder. 

The boy flipped a page.

Jesse tapped him again, and when that didn’t work, said, “Aiden.”

The boy looked up, blinking. “Jesse?”

Jesse smiled, patting Aiden on the shoulder. “We need your help. This is Kate,” he said, waving a hand in her direction. “She wants to see the weapons shed, if you have a moment.”

Aiden stood, tucking his book neatly beneath his arm, and nodded at Kate. Running a swift hand through his hair, he made his way to a cluttered table; he began rifling through blueprints, rummaging through spare parts and discarded inventions. Finally, he pulled out a shining silver key. Motioning for Kate and Jesse to follow, he led them back outside. Kate found herself squinting against the burning sun, shadowing her eyes with her hand as they slipped between cabins and into the back of the grey building. A lone shed, rickety and crumbling, stood behind the cabin. Aiden slipped the key into the lock and threw the door wide. “You can have your pick of anything inside.”

Kate didn’t even glance into the shed. Instead, she turned to Jesse, tugging on his sleeve. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” she whispered.

His eyebrows furrowed, and he leaned down to better hear her. “What’s wrong?”

“I cut myself with kitchen knives,” she replied. “I really don’t think I should have a sword.”

“We’d teach you how to use it,” Jesse said, fighting back a smile. When Kate still looked perturbed, he added, “come on, Kate. You’re a demigod. Mike told me what happened with the cyclops - what happens if someone attacks you again? Are you just going to wait for Rhys to show up and hit them with his car again? Because he’s still trying to fix the damage from the last time.” He nudged her forward, gently but firmly. “You’ve got this, Kate.”

She respectfully disagreed, but she stepped into the shed anyway. She immediately tripped on a spear. Catching herself on the door frame, she shot a mild ‘I told you so’ glance behind her before turning back to the storage space. Crossbows hung from the ceiling, swords and daggers strewn about the floor with various maces and bows poking out from in between. There appeared to be no system, so Kate simply skimmed, hoping that something - anything - would catch her eye. Nothing did.

“You’re short,” a voice muttered from behind her, “so I wouldn’t go for a sword.”

Kate turned. A tanned face stared at her from the open doorway, two dark eyes watching her with disinterest. The boy nodded in the direction Kate had just been looking, and she glanced back regretfully at the row of swords she had just been eyeing.

The boy moved closer, inspecting the many options that lay before him. “Weapons that require reach are a no, too. And ones that match your strength against your opponents’.” He hefted a crossbow in his hands before setting it back down on its rack. “Go ranged, or with something smaller, like a dagger.”

“Thank you,” was all Kate could think to say. 

The boy said nothing as he continued to peruse the array of weapons. Kate found herself watching him, curious and confused and more than a little annoyed. She stood on her tip toes then, struggling to catch a glimpse of Jesse over the boy’s shoulder. The blonde was leaning against a tree, arms crossed over his chest and looking for the life of him as though he were about to fall asleep. That changed when Kate caught his eye, and he perked up, a question in his gaze. She nodded her head at the mysterious boy, shaking her head slightly. ‘Oh,’ he mouthed. And then he mouthed something indistinguishable that Kate presumed was the boy’s name. She rolled her eyes, lowering herself back to the flats of her feet.

“Try this.” The boy handed her a bow, the wood inflexible and dark; it fit awkwardly in her hands and she felt comically short next to the length of the weapon. She shook her head, returning the bow to the boy. In exchange, he handed her a simple dagger, and she took it gratefully.

They continued for a while this way, the boy handing her countless possibilities and Kate finding reasons to dismiss them. If she was being honest, many of the weapons were perfectly fine. They felt just as she imagined they should, but something always felt … off. She sighed, leaning back against the door frame. This was hopeless. She didn’t even know what she was supposed to be looking for. To the boy’s credit, his patience appeared to be nowhere close to its limit. He simply continued to search the shed, assessing weapons and handing Kate the likelies. He seemed to be at a stand still right now, which worked perfectly for her; she was growing ever tired of the sense of disappointment that accompanied each option. So she leaned back against the rough wood, eyes trained on the ground, and waited.

She wasn’t waiting for very long when her gaze caught on a long, black pole. It was the spear she had tripped over earlier, only now that she examined it, she noticed that it wasn’t actually a spear - at least, it wasn’t like any spear she had ever seen (which, come to think of it, wasn’t saying very much). Kate knelt down, the edge of her shirt brushing the ground. It was two-pronged, a pitchfork whose points curved slightly outwards, and as she lifted it in her hands, she discovered that is was deceptively light. She grinned.

“Are you sure?”

The boy had turned to watch her, a forgotten scythe hanging loosely between his fingers. “What is it?” Kate asked, returning her attention to the weapon clutched in her hands.

“A bident,” he said, stepping closer. He rested his hands on the bident, taking it lightly from her grip and weighed it against his palms. Seemingly satisfied, he placed it back in her hands with surprising gentleness. “It’s an unusual choice, but the length will lessen the disadvantage of your height.

“Aiden!” he called, sticking his head out the doorway. “We’re taking a bident and a sword.”

“We have a bident?” came his response.

The boy rolled his eyes, stooping to the ground to retrieve a strap and sheath. He slid it over Kate’s head so that the sheath was resting slanted across her back and tapped the bident with two fingers. “Be careful with that until you learn how to use it; keep it away until you need it.” Slipping a sword from a nearby rack, he moved past her and disappeared through the door.

Kate spun around, fumbling to stow her weapon as she jumped from the shed. She fell into step beside the boy and said, “thank you. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“I could tell,” he said dryly.

Kate ignored him. “What’s your name?” she asked, struggling to match her short strides with his long ones. They were moving around the end of the square of cabins, heading deeper into camp. She could see more from here; campers canoing in the lake, satyrs chatting in the pavilion as they set out plates, and, beyond it all, a massive shoreline stretching for miles in either direction. The ocean beyond it was a rich blue, glittering beneath the sun, its salty scent drifting towards her on the breeze. Camp Half-Blood, she decided, was quite beautiful. And big. How was it possible she’d never heard of a camp for demigods hidden somewhere on Long Island?

“Rhys,” the boy said, sliding his sword into the sheath fastened around his waist.

Oh! “Car boy!” Kate exclaimed, eyes widening in recognition. She froze. “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. Not that it isn’t true, you do have a car; at least, that was what I was told, so it’s probably true. Still you probably don’t want that to be your identifier. Anyway, thank you. For saving me, I mean.” She forced herself to stop talking, silently berating herself for rambling. Hesitantly, she peered up at Rhys.

He studied her quietly. Though he didn’t appear angry, Kate could see a hint of annoyance in his eyes, and she chuckled nervously. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“I don’t have a car,” was all he said. She waited for him to continue, but when it was obvious he wouldn’t, she pressed him further.

“What about the one you hit the cyclops with?”

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s wrecked. That’s what tends to happen when you use it as a battering ram.”

They were walking into a forest now, soft grass giving way to curled knots and twisting roots, and Kate was grateful for the cool respite of the leaves’ shade. “You can’t fix it?” she asked. “It got us back here, so it should be somewhat fine, right?”

“Technically,” he said, “the van is camp property. And Mr. D was pissed, to say the least.”

“Who’s Mr. D?”

Rhys sighed, looking at Kate from the corner of his eye. “Do you ever stop asking questions?”

“Can you blame me?” Kate brushed aside a branch as she passed, narrowly ducking underneath one that Rhys had let go of just before it thwacked her in the face. “I wake up and suddenly gods are real and magic is real and I’m….” Kate trailed off, unsure of how to finish her sentence. “Can you blame me?” she repeated weakly.

“No,” Rhys said. “But I don’t see why I have to be the one to answer them.” He turned towards Kate, eyes dark. “Run back to Jesse.” With that, he spun and vanished into the woods, leaving Kate standing alone in the trees.

She remained there for a long moment, stunned. Then Rhys’s last words sank in and a mist of stubbornness clouded her mind; she gathered herself and followed after him. If anyone asked her, Kate wouldn’t have been able to say why she did it, other than the fact Rhys had been mean and the forest seemed a little too eerie for her to navigate on her own. As it was, she really should have taken Rhys’s advice and returned to Jesse because no matter how she quickened her pace, she couldn’t seem to find Rhys anywhere. She spun around, hoping to catch sight of him between the trees, but there was nothing. She was truly and completely alone.

Sighing, Kate turned to go back the way she had come - only to realize she had no idea which way that was. She scrutinized the branches, the trees, the paths, but each one looked the same; each one held broken twigs and crumpled leaves, hints at recent passings, but none held any clues as to which way led back to camp.

Kate could feel her heart beginning to race, breath quickening as panic set in. She could hear the forest moving around her, hear the call of dozens of unknown creatures, and she stumbled backwards. The image of the cyclops rose unbidden in her mind. Relax, Kate, you need to relax, she thought, but it was easier said than done. She saw a glimmering ax whenever she closed her eyes. She felt the sting of the blade with each moment that passed.

“Rhys?”

There was no answer. Not that she thought there would be, of course; he’d made it pretty clear that he wanted nothing more to do with Kate. The thought of his last words cleared her mind, her stubbornness returning to replace her fear. She didn’t need saving. Not again.

Kate closed her eyes and listened once more.

There. Underneath the sounds of the forest lay the babbling of rushing water, the whisper of wet against stone. A river, a creek, Kate couldn’t tell, but honestly, it didn’t matter. Kate remembered the ocean at the edge of Camp Half-Blood and smiled, feet moving as if on their own towards the sound. If she could find the brook, she could follow the flow of water to the ocean and, more importantly, away from the forest. She’d only made it five steps before a hand shot out of the shadows and pressed against her mouth. A second hand pulled at her body, forcing her against a tree so that she was pinned between the rough bark and the heavy body of her attacker. Kate pushed at the person, nails digging into skin as she tried to fight her way free. They responded by pressing a knife against her throat, the thin blade drawing a trickle of blood. Kate stopped squirming.

A hood hung low over the face of her attacker, casting their face in shadow; from the broadness of their shoulders and the heavyset body pressing against her, she assumed it was a man. “Who are you?” Kate whispered. She winced as the knife dug further into her throat. No more speaking, Kate noted. Speaking hurts.

She could feel her bident pressing against her back, knew that if she could just reach it, she could be free. But her hands were pinned between her and the man, and if she moved, she was certain it would be the last thing she would do. Her mind began to race, heart beating at a hundred miles per hour; the fear she had been fighting to suppress threatened to overtake her, only this time, her terror didn’t take the form of a behemoth with an ax. It was standing in front of her, solidified in the form of a masked man with a dagger. Kate couldn’t help it; she gathered her strength and pushed.

To her surprise, the man stumbled back, unprepared for Kate’s sudden resistance. She managed to slip out from beneath him and darted quickly between the trees. Running wouldn’t work, she knew that, but her several steps had given her room to breathe. Kate reached behind her, fingers fastening around the shaft of her bident. With a sharp breath, she pulled it free.

And the man was upon her. Kate lashed out with her weapon, barely managing to catch his cloak as he spun to the side. He dove underneath the pole and swiped at her shins with his dagger, Kate sweeping down with the bident in an attempt to bat him aside. She was too late; she hissed as the knife pierced her skin. Blood seeped down her legs, and Kate’s vision went white, rage and pain and fear blanketing her mind. She threw back her head and screamed.

The ground beneath her feet began to convulse, tremors like earthquakes shaking the forest until even the trees were sent into chaos. The hooded figure stumbled backwards, grasping at something, anything to steady himself, but his hands came up empty. He collapsed, thrown against the dirt in the upheaval, and as Kate watched, the earth around him began to move, separating until there was nothing beneath him but an empty hole. She watched as the ground closed around him, swallowing him whole.

All at once, the quaking stilled. The floor steadied, the trees ceased their shaking, and after a moment, even the animals of the forest continued their songs. Kate felt her knees buckle and then the world went dark.


	4. Claimed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kate returns to camp and learns the identity of her godly parent.

By the time she returned to camp, the sun was beginning to set. The beach was empty when she arrived, but she could hear laughter echoing from the pavilion, and so that was where she headed. Her head stung and she was covered in blood, her only item of clothing soiled and torn; her bident was clutched in her hand, her knuckles white with the pressure of her grip. And so it was that she got plenty of stares as she entered the mess hall.

Several round tables were scattered across the open air pavilion, each one home to dozens of campers. Their plates were empty, only scant remains evidencing a meal that must have been grand, and Kate sighed. Leave it to her to miss dinner. Faintly, she realized she should have been more worried about almost dying earlier, but the growling in her stomach was making that almost impossible. She pressed a hand to her head as it began to throb.

“Kate! Kate, are you okay?”

She looked up. Emma was rushing to her from the other side of the pavilion, leaving a table full of more attractive, fair-haired campers. Does godly DNA automatically become dominant or what? There should not be that many blonde people. Unless Apollo has a type, Kate thought absentmindedly. “Kate?” Emma’s voice came again.

“Oh. I don’t think so,” Kate said thickly. “Is there any food left?”

Emma turned to the side, speaking rapidly to a passing woman with pointed ears. She nodded and scampered off, her green dress trailing behind her. Taking a deep breath as though to gather herself, Emma led Kate to a nearby table and helped her gently onto a bench. The woman came scurrying back, a bag full of golden cubes in hand. Emma took them gratefully. She shook out a few cubes and pressed them into Kate’s hands. “Food. Eat some,” she said.

Kate didn’t need Emma to tell her that - she shoved the whole handful into her mouth. This time, she was prepared for the surprising taste; cinnamon rolls and brownies swirled together in her mouth, and the painful throbbing faded into a dull ache. Just like before, it was gone far too soon. Kate swallowed and held her hand out for more.

Emma inspected Kate, running her hands across Kate’s body searching for wounds, checking her pulse, feeling her temperature. Finally, she sat back, shaking another cube out of the bag. “One more,” she said, tone solemn. “That’s it. Then we can get you some real food.”

“Kate!”

This time, Kate didn’t look up, intent on eating a cube of golden deliciousness. She popped it in her mouth, swishing it around with her tongue in the hopes of making it last longer. The dull ache that had been a throbbing vanished. The cube was gone.

“Kate, what happened? Are you okay?” It was Jesse, the golden haired boy flushed and panicked. He scanned her body. She knew she looked bad, but thanks to whatever it was Emma had given her, she now looked worse than she felt. The fog that had clouded her mind was also gone, so she mustered up the strength to respond.

“I’m fine,” she assured Jesse, smiling softly. “Although I am still hungry. What was that? It was like nectar, but not.”

“Ambrosia,” Emma answered, sealing up the bag. “The food of the gods. A bit easier to transport, and,” she said, looking pointedly at Kate, “good to have on hand.” She handed the ambrosia back to the woman, then turned back to Kate, worry furrowing her brow. “Kate… what happened?”

Kate recounted the events of the afternoon, starting from just after she left Jesse at the weapons shed. She glanced apologetically at Jesse, but he simply waved her concern aside and motioned for her to continue. It was relieving, telling her story to someone, and even more so because she knew they would understand the events better than she did herself. By the time she finished, her eyes were bright and her voice emphatic.

“The ground just… swallowed him?” Jesse asked.

Kate nodded, tearing apart a piece of bread. Another woman with pointed ears and tinted green skin had dropped off a plate laden with food while she had been talking, and Kate had taken it perhaps more gratefully than she had the ambrosia. “Swallowed him whole,” she said before stuffing a chunk of bread in her mouth.

Jesse and Emma exchanged a look, expressions unreadable. “What?” Kate asked. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” Emma said.

“No,” Jesse replied.

They glared at each other. “That was helpful,” Kate said, taking a sip from her Coke. Finally, Emma sighed and leaned back in her seat. Jesse, too, looked away, staring mildly at the stone floor of the pavilion. “Guys?”

Emma forced a smile on her face, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “It’s nothing, Kate. What happened just sounds eerily similar to what happened with another camper a couple years ago. The whole ‘earth swallowing a monster’, that is.”

“Eerily? Eerily is definitely wrong,” Kate said. “Who were they? Are they fine?”

“Yeah, he’s perfectly fine,” Emma said quickly. “He still lives at camp, so you might meet him tonight.”

“Speaking of which,” Jesse piped in. “We should get going. The campfire’s already started.” It was true. The pavilion had cleared while Kate was talking, and several green-skinned women and satyrs had stayed behind to begin cleaning. Kate set aside her plate, pushing herself to her feet, and Jesse and Emma quickly did the same. Jesse stuck out an arm, as though to support Kate should she stumble. Kate smiled but shook her head.

“I’m fine, Jesse,” she said. “Really. Now which way is it?”

“This way,” Emma said. She led the way out of the pavilion, smooth concrete giving way to rolling grass. The sun had fully fallen beneath the horizon, and the moonlight shone on the creek as they walked alongside it. Kate found herself admiring the reflection of the stars glittering in the water’s surface, remembering another night just like this one; a night that was miles away. 

The amphitheater was back past the cabins and around the canoe lake. She missed it on her tour - she missed a lot of things on her tour as she’d left before it had even really begun. But she liked the canoe lake, with the dock with peeling white paint and the small boats bobbing on the wind-disturbed waters. She liked everything about Camp Half-Blood, really, except maybe the murderous hooded figures and even those she could learn to live with after the sixth or seventh time. Maybe. Hopefully. She swallowed, and felt the kiss of the blade on her neck.

“Kate? You’re shaking.” Emma placed a hand tentatively on Kate’s shoulder, and when Kate didn’t object, stepped a little closer. “Are you really okay?” she asked quietly. Kate looked her in the eyes, brown staring into blue.

No. “Yes,” Kate said. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She brushed a speck of dirt that might actually have been dried blood off of her arm. Yep. Just fine.

Luckily, she didn’t have to say any more. The sound of laughter and raucous singing grew louder, and as the trio turned the corner, they were met with the sight of a roaring fire. Twenty rows of benches were filled with celebrating demigods and satyrs, each one singing and laughing and shouting with a happiness that was almost contagious. A man with the torso of a human and the rear end of a horse was standing near the fire. He appeared to be leading them in a rendition of “This Land is My Land”, except the ‘my’ was replaced with somebody named Minos. Jesse led them to an empty space near the first row of campers, and Emma plopped happily onto the grass. Kate remained standing, arms wrapped around herself as she took in her surroundings.

“Who are those women?” Kate asked Jesse, spotting another girl with pointed ears. She was singing along to the song with enthusiasm, swaying her hips to the tune of the music. Jesse looked up and smiled.

“Those are dryads. They’re nature spirits, creatures that inhabit forests and trees,” he explained.

Kate nodded, eyes still trained on the woman. “And the half-man half-horse?”

“Centaurs. That one in particular is Chiron, though,” Emma said, “He’s the Camp Activity Director.” When Kate said nothing, Emma placed a hand on her arm. “Come with me for a sec?”

Kate followed wordlessly as the daughter of Apollo pulled her away from the campfire, coaxing her gently back towards the lake. They were the only ones out by the water, laughter drifting towards them faintly, almost worlds away. Emma tugged Kate’s arm, pulling her down onto the dock beside her; she slipped her sneakers off and dropped her feet into the water. Kate pulled her legs to her chest, resting her head on her knees.  
The lake danced happily in the breeze, and the stars still glittered on the surface as they had when she had passed earlier, but now there was a smiling face beneath the water, long hair flowing as she swam. Kate watched for a moment, but the girl didn’t surface. She grabbed Emma’s arm in alarm.

“A nymph,” she said. “A water spirit. She’s fine,” she reassured Kate. “She doesn’t need air.”

The nymph giggled and dove further into the depths of the lake, and Kate let her fingers fall, releasing the crumpled fabric of Emma’s sleeve. She rocked back on her heels, embarrassed, tilting dangerously to the side as Emma bumped her shoulder into Kate’s.

“It’s a lot to take in for anyone,” she said quietly.

“But I’m not alone, right?” Kate guessed, smiling weakly.

“No, you’re alone,” Emma teased. “You don’t even have a camp full of other demigods to talk to. Or a beautiful daughter of Apollo that went through the same thing you did.”

Kate snorted and slipped her feet into the lake, leaning back on her palms. She turned her face to the moon, drinking in the silver light. It really was a beautiful night, a beautiful place. But it was beautiful in the way that it was something other, something she didn’t have a right being a part of. “What was it like? For you, I mean?” she asked.

For a moment, Kate thought Emma hadn’t heard her. She simply stared out at the lake, moonlight reflecting off the water and painting her face with an ethereal glow. Then she smiled, expression strained. “I didn’t take to it immediately,” she said, laughing softly. “All my life, it’s been just me and my mom, and even she was unreliable. She’s the type of person that loves to chase after her dreams, no matter how hard they try to escape her, and no matter who it interrupts in the process. I think maybe that’s why Apollo loved her, actually. Her passion. Or maybe he just thought she was beautiful and that was that.

“But then there was this whole camp telling me that they're my family and that I’m half god. Maybe a normal twelve year old would have been thrilled, but I’ve seen what happens to people when they play God. And I was scared. Told that I could do great things, and fearing what would happen if I hoped that I could. Terrified beyond belief of what would happen if I let everyone down, would they ignore me or leave me or worse - forget me?” She laughed again, and her smile twisted into something wry. Then she shook her head, blonde hair swishing. “But you know, that never happened.”

“What did happen?” Kate asked. Her grip on her arms tightened, knuckles turning white with the pressure.

Emma nudged Kate with her elbow, grinning widely. “A nosy camper sat me down and told me their story.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Liar.”

“No, I’m serious,” Emma exclaimed. “Why do you think I’ve been practicing my speech for the last three years?”

“Narcissism?” Kate teased.

“Maybe partially. But Kate, I am serious. Coming to camp, suddenly learning that gods and monsters and spirits are real - it’s hard. It’s hard, but everyone here has been through the same. As cliche as it sounds, we’re a family here. Literally.” Emma smiled, leaning back on her palms and looking up at the sky in a mirror of Kate. “What good thing comes without a little bad? And Kate, there is so much good to look forward to.” She sighed, lifting her feet out of the water. “Take as much time as you need. You can come back when you’re ready.” With that, she collected her shoes and started back towards the campfire.

Kate looked back at the lake. The water lapped at her toes, cool liquid chasing away the summer heat, and she sighed. So much good to look forward to… Kate wondered if her words rang true. Soon, curiosity got the better of her, and she hauled herself to her feet. Taking a deep breath, Kate made her way across the dock, heart racing the entire way. As her feet shifted from rough wood to wispy grass, the earth began to shake.

Kate froze, and now it was as though her heart were trying to escape her chest. The trembling ground began to split open, just like it had in the forest, only instead of one crevasse there were dozens of holes sprouting around her. She couldn’t help it. She screamed.

Just like that, the spell holding Kate in place was broken, and she took off, dashing towards the campfire with everything she had. Faintly, she registered the abrupt quieting of laughter, the shouts of alarm, but she ignored it, for in the corners of her eyes, she saw hands of bone clawing from the earth, digging into the dirt in a manic frenzy. Kate begged herself to run faster, but faster than she could run, new holes appeared. She skidded to a halt, resigned. Quivering, she drew her bident.

“Kate!”

Kate didn’t dare take her eyes off the skeletons. She watched mutely as they pulled their bodies from the grave, dirt clinging to their skulls and spines, insects crawling out of their eye sockets and down their yellowing bodies. Steeling herself, she pulled back her bident and swung.

The weapon connected with the skeleton in front of her, knocking his skull clean off his head. But the body didn’t collapse; it simply continued to rise from the earth, bones clacking with the effort. She swung again and again, lashing wildly around her in an arc, and though she grew out of breath and her arms strained, she swung again and again.

“Kate, wait!”

The bident struck against a femur, smashing it to pieces.

“Kate, stop!”

Emma. Kate looked up. The daughter of Apollo was staring at her with wide eyes. Behind her stood the demigods of Camp Half-Blood, Chiron, the dryads, Each one watched her with varying expressions, and each one stood perfectly still. Why can I see them so clearly? Kate thought numbly. Where are the skeletons? 

She looked down.

A circle of broken bones lay scattered around her, some of the piles still struggling despite their missing parts. And just passed the destruction, the rest of the skeletons bowed. Kate spun, searching desperately for an outlier, but each skeleton was the same. Each skeleton knelt before her. She felt a weight pressing against her head, and she reached up. Nestled in her hair was a wreath of bones.

“Emma…” she said slowly. “What is this?”

“You’re being claimed,” she whispered.

“My father?”

“The God of the Dead,” Chiron said. “The Unseen, Lord of the Underworld, Father of Riches. Hail, Kate Moreau, the daughter of Hades.”

“But that would mean…” Emma trailed off, looking helplessly at Chiron. The centaur nodded thoughtfully and flicked his tail, back half skittering.

“It would seem Hades did, indeed, break his oath,” he confirmed. “However, as Percy and Thalia also exist, I believe the repercussions will be minimal.”

“Repercussions? What repercussions?” Kate asked. Though the skeletons didn’t move, Kate made no move to sheath her weapon, and she knew her heart wouldn’t cease its pounding until every last one vanished back into the earth. Given that they weren’t moving, Kate wondered how soon that would be.

“Try telling them to leave,” Emma said gently. She stepped forward, white dress floating around her legs as she did. She stopped several inches away from the outer ring of skeletons, hesitant.

Kate swallowed, turning to the skeleton closest to her with flushed cheeks. “Leave? Please?” she asked tentatively.

The animated mass of bones chattered its teeth, and, as one, the skeletons rose. They disappeared back into their holes, ground sealing itself above them as though nothing had happened. Kate let out a breath she hadn’t known she had been holding and stowed her bident.

Emma stepped forward quickly, wrapping Kate in a warm embrace. “You’re fine,” she whispered, breath tickling Kate’s ear. “You’re fine.” Pulling away, she flashed Kate a brilliant smile. “I’ll admit, Hades has a bit of a creepy claiming.”  
“What repercussions?” Kate repeated.

Emma’s smile vanished, eyes growing dark. “Maybe I’ll let Chiron explain this one,” she said. “He probably has more of an idea about what will happen now anyway. But you’re fine,” Emma added. “Really.”

Somehow, Kate found that hard to believe. But she allowed Emma to lead her to Chiron, fingers cool on Kate’s arm. The centaur was talking quietly to a young man with tanned skin and sun-bleached hair, the latter dressed in a bright orange t-shirt and nodding emphatically to everything Chiron was saying. As the pair approached, Chiron motioned the boy away. He smiled at Kate through his wispy beard, crinkling the corner of his eyes. “Ms. Moreau. You have made quite an entrance. And I suspect,” he said, eyeing her haggard appearance, “that it began far before your claiming.” He glanced at Emma, and she nodded, offering Kate a small smile before vanishing into the night. Kate was alone.

“What did you mean by repercussions?” Kate asked for the third time, peering up at Chiron. He was a good few heads taller than her and the shadow he cast over her was long and dark. That coupled with the fact that he was also partly a horse did nothing to settle her nerves.

But he smiled, waving back the boy he had dismissed earlier, and when he came, he was pushing a wheelchair before him. There was an empty box resting atop it, fake legs dangling from the front. “Thank you,” Chiron said. Chiron then lifted his rear legs and preceded to stuff them into the box on the seat of the wheelchair.

Kate watched wide eyed as the rest of his horse half followed, folding impossibly into the miniscule space until there was only a man with normal legs in a worn out wheelchair. “To explain the repercussions, I must go further back,” Chiron stated, as though nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred. And, she supposed, it probably wasn’t out of the ordinary for him. “Tell me, what do you know of the Big Three?”

“Um…” Kate said, eyes still fixed on the magical wheelchair. “Um. The Big Three. That’s Zeus, Poseidon and my - Hades,” Kate managed to say. “They’re brothers, the big three gods.” Jesse’s lessons began coming back in bits and pieces, and Kate struggled to grasp at the memories. “Zeus is the leader, and he rules the sky, and Poseidon and Hades are the sea and the dead.”

“Correct,” Chiron said, nodding appreciatively. “Many years ago, Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades made an oath, an oath that stated that they would no longer bear mortal children. This was to protect the world and Olympus from further conflict.”

“But I’m a thing,” Kate said.

“You are a thing,” Chiron agreed. “It was known that Poseidon disobeyed the oath when his son Perseus came to camp several years ago, and before that, Thalia was evidence of Zeus’s indiscretions. Though there were two children of Hades that appeared, they were both born before the oath, and so it was believed that Hades was the only brother to have upheld his end of the bargain. That is,” Chiron said, “until you.”

“So the repercussions…” Kate said.

“Will be whatever wrath Hades has incurred from his brothers,” Chiron finished. He placed his hands on the wheels of his chair, rolling himself deeper into camp. Kate followed hesitantly, curious. “I doubt there is much to fear. Each brother is capable of matching the others, and both Poseidon and Zeus have betrayed the oath knowingly, as well. However, Zeus is far from the most rational of gods.”

The cabins looked dreary in the darkness of the night, twenty empty pillars standing resolute against the horizon. Their shadows only deepened with Chiron’s words, and Kate felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “You needn’t worry, Kate. Gods are not meant to actively interfere with the realm of mortals; they do not harm demigods.”

“But they can have someone else do it,” Kate guessed. “Something else.”

Chiron hesitated. “Theoretically, yes. I would be remiss if I did not accept the possibility, though I do not believe that your attack was a god’s doing. Monsters roam the world freely, Ms. Moreau, and they are quite adept at finding out demigods. In fact, I would go so far as to say you have been lucky these past few years, going so long about your life without incident.” Chiron’s gaze became unfocused, eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Lucky indeed…”  
Kate wasn’t feeling very lucky at the moment. It may have taken a while for the monsters to find her, but when they did, they seemed to come in rapid succession. She wondered if she could call the skeletons, commanding them to fight for her instead of to leave. Was that moral? Do skeletons feel? If they did, she would feel terribly sorry for the ones she had smashed.

“Here we are.”

Kate looked up. They had stopped in front of the last cabin of the row. Green flames lit dark obsidian walls, flickering eternally into the night. They cast the skull hanging over the door in an eery glow, the ever-changing shadows making it seem as though the bones were alive. A voice in the corner of Kate’s mind whispered that they very well might be; anything was possible in this place, no matter how much she wished it wasn’t. “My cabin,” she said softly. A desolate, windowless thing. It looked like the home of nightmares.

Chiron nodded, moving his hands so that they rested on the wheels of his chair. “I had Will Solace set aside a change of clothes for you, and I believe the coffins were recently exchanged for beds. It is ready for you, Ms. Moreau,” he said. His gaze held a question, one that Kate had been asking herself since the moment she woke up. Are you ready?

She stepped into the doorway, hand resting on the knob. “Thank you, Chiron,” Kate said. Then she turned the handle and stepped into her new home.

The door fell shut behind her with a soft thud, leaving Kate alone in the empty cabin. Green torches hung on all four walls, casting the room in the same ethereal glow as outside. The light danced over two rows of beds with banisters of ebony and sheets as black as the obsidian walls. A folded set of clothes was laid neatly on the bed closest to the door, and Kate rushed towards them gratefully. The shirt was bright orange, the words ‘Camp Half-Blood’ stamped neatly over the image of a winged horse. The shorts were of plain black cloth, the waist stretchy and easily moved in. Kate shimmied out of her torn, blood-splattered shirt and tugged her new clothes on as fast as she could, eyeing the door warily. She knew Chiron said she was the only member of the cabin right now, but her mind would not release the image of some random camper barging in while Kate was in her underwear. Luckily, the door remained firmly shut.

She carried her bident and sheath to the bed in the farthest corner, but she stopped short. Someone else had her idea, as well. Photos were taped to the wall behind the pillow, blankets and sheets rumpled as though from recent use. Kate dropped her weapon on the bed beside it absentmindedly, moving forward to examine the pictures. Most of them featured a boy with olive skin and dark hair, and the boy with sun bleached hair that Chiron had been speaking to. They looked happy when they were together, the sort of incandescently happy Kate had only ever seen from far away. Judging from the light in their eyes, they were dating. The dark haired boy must be the other child of Hades. My brother. She brushed her fingers over his image. He didn’t look like her sibling, and though Chiron said he was born before the oath, he looked about her age, as well. Kate was beginning to learn that appearances meant little at Camp Half-Blood.  
Sighing, she sat back onto her bed, falling back onto a soft mattress and even softer pillows. Kate let her eyes flutter closed, drinking in the comfort. Lying there, she could almost forget the hooded figure. She could almost forget the cyclops and the nightmares and the lonely, lonely cabin. And after everything that had happened, all the fear and frustration she’d had to endure, she wanted nothing more than to truly forget.  
But as she closed her eyes, those monsters were all she could see.

She sat up, feeling her heart begin to race, her breathing begin to quicken. She could feel the knife on her neck, the axe burying into flesh and bone; the darkness, resolute as her vision faded into nothingness. Kate opened her mouth, breathing faster, trying to get enough air into her lungs, but no matter how many times she breathed, she couldn’t seem to get any, so she breathed harder, faster, until it seemed like she would pass out from the effort. Bones, digging their way out of the ground clawed their way into her mind’s eye, and she yelled. But there was no one there, there would never be anyone there. She was alone in the cabin of a god who hadn’t had any children for the past however many years. She was alone, and she couldn’t do it.

1, 2, 3… Kate focused on the numbers. 1, 2, 3… With each one, her heart began to calm. Hurried gasps for air faded slowly into shaky breaths, and the black haze that threatened to overcome her vision started to disperse. She wrapped a trembling hand around her bident. Like so many nights ago, she slung her legs over the side of the bed and threw herself into the night.


	5. Escaping Camp Half-Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kate finds herself a satyr and runs into some harpies.

The path to the Big House at night was crawling with campers plagued by the remnants of laughter and a longing for sleep. It really wasn’t far, and Kate could very clearly see the way, but she wasn’t quite certain that was where she needed to go. She stopped a haggard looking man in an outlandish Hawaiian shirt. “Do you know where Mike is?”

“What?” The man glared at her. He was a portly fellow with dark hair and the faint hint of the beginnings of a beard. He looked positively affronted, and Kate would have normally found the appearance comical.

“Mike,” Kate said. “The satyr.”

The man waved a can of Diet Coke in her face, scowling. “I heard you. Why you think I would care where that goat has gone would puzzle even Athena. Get out of my way,” he said. Before Kate had the chance to move, he slipped past her and disappeared into the Big House. Kate sighed, staring after him.

“You’re looking for Mike?”

Kate turned. A girl with knotted brown hair and curious eyes stood on the porch steps; she smiled at Kate, head tilted to the side. Kate nodded, surprised, and the girl’s smile grew brighter. “He’s usually in the strawberry fields at night. He lives in the woods, but he always ends up falling asleep there.”

“Oh. Thank you….”

“Katie. Katie Gardner.”

“Thank you, Katie.” Trying not to seem like she was in too much of a hurry, Kate smiled, climbing down the steps slowly. “I’ll just be off, then.”

“Kate?” the girl called. Kate glanced over her shoulder, already halfway around the front of the house. “Welcome to Camp Half-Blood.”

Kate said nothing, offering only a small wave before disappearing around the corner. The distant chatter of campers had quieted as they each made their way to their cabins, and the night was left only with the hush of the wind and the calls of insects. Kate closed her eyes, letting the sweet smell of berries ready for harvest lead her to the fields. They were tucked neatly in the shadows of the Big House, green fields that stretched towards the horizon.

She crept through the bushes, eyes now open wide, and scanned through the neatly planted rows for any sign of the satyr. “Mike?” Kate whispered. She was loath to break the peace of the night, but she was also loath to spend five hours searching through plants. “Mike,” she whispered again, and fought the urge to pluck a particularly vibrant strawberry off its stem.

Her only answer was a sharp rustling from behind her, and Kate spun, clutching her bident like a lifeline. She searched the path frantically, but all she saw were strawberries and dirt and air. She took a deep breath, turned around. “Mike,” she said, a little more urgently this time. Delving deeper into the field, she quickened her pace, gaze skimming now more than perusing. There was another rustling, but this time she did not turn around. She kept walking, heart racing. “Mike?”

“Kate?”

A strawberry bush a few feet in front of Kate began shaking wildly, and a boy with curly brown hair fell out onto the ground. Mike jumped to his feet, brushing the dirt off his shirt, and grinned. “Fancy seeing you here.”  
Kate let out a breath. “Yeah. In the middle of a strawberry field. Alone. At night. Why are you here?” she asked.

“You make it sound so dark,” Mike said. “There’s nothing dark about nature.” He gazed fondly over the strawberry field, and Kate noticed for the first time a wooden pipe held lovingly between his fingers. “Whether it harms or nurtures, it’s never bad or good. It simply is. It’s simply doing what it was made to do. Unlike humans.”

“Ouch?” Kate didn’t know if she was being insulted or not; he spoke with such gentility that he could have said he ate the last macaron and Kate would have doubted if it was wrong of him.

“Satyrs, too,” Mike said with a smile. “Humans are worse, though.” Lifting the pipes to his mouth, he began to play, a sweet, haunting tune that brought the plants to life. The stems swayed in time to the music, the bushes dull green blooming into a verdant flush.

Kate tried to laugh, but all that came out was a short exhale of breath. She shifted restlessly, shooting a nervous glance into the field. “Listen, Mike…” she started, watching the plants dance. “I need your help.”  
The satyr continued to play, eyes closed as he lost himself in his pipes. “I need you to take me home,” Kate said.

The music stopped. Mike opened his eyes and lowered his instrument, eyebrow raised. “Kate, I can’t help you do that.” He said it simply, matter-of-factly. Kate felt her hear drop through her chest.

“Mike, please -”

“I said no, Kate. We went through a lot to get you here, to get you to where you’re safe. Taking you back would be signing your death warrant. I won’t do that,” Mike said. He lifted his pipes back to his lips, took a breath to play, then sighed. He lowered the pipes, looking at Kate with a soft gaze. “Why do you want to go back?” he asked, slightly exasperated.

“My mom,” she lied. “I never got to say goodbye.” Kate forced herself to remain still, fighting the urge to tell Mike everything; she wanted to, but she knew he would try to calm her down, talk her out of it, knew he would try to do anything but help her get home. “Please, Mike,” she said softly. “I’m all she has.”

“Don’t do that to me, Kate,” Mike begged. “Don’t try to guilt me.”

“I’m only telling you the truth,” Kate said, “and I’ll do it again. Even if you say no, I’ll find a way to go back on my own.” She met his eyes, mouth set, and held his gaze with as much firmness as she could muster. She was sure it wouldn’t work - she was short and scared and ashamed. But she had to try.

“Alright,” Mike said.

“Please, Mi - ” Kate froze. “What?”

“I said alright,” Mike said again. Kate stared at him, startled, and he sighed. “You’re going to go anyway, right? If I take you, I know you’ll get there safely, and when you’re done, I can take you right back.” When Kate said nothing, he leaned forward, bringing his face close to hers. “Right back. Okay?”

She nodded, forcing herself to meet his gaze. Her heart tightened painfully. I’m sorry, Mike. “Thank you, Mike,” she said with a smile. He didn’t look fully convinced, but he slipped his pipes in his pocket anyway and led the way back towards the Big House.

The dirt rows of the strawberry fields were made to be walked down together, and as they made their way through the harvest, it wasn’t so hard to see why Mike liked to come there. The aroma was tantalizing, the company calming, and yet whenever she blinked, the cyclops was burned against her eyelids. She quickened her pace. “I miss my mom,” Kate said, when Mike glanced at her curiously. He said nothing, simply pressed his lips and stepped out of the fields.

The lights of the Big House shone even into the night, two torches on the porch illuminating the path to the double doors. The handle turned easily under Mike’s fingers; it was never locked either, then. Kate followed him inside, relishing the blast of cool air that washed over her in the doorway. Despite the lights, the entrance was empty. A massive rug took up most of the floor, decorated in shades of red, and a flame blazed happily in the fireplace. There were two large sofas, an armchair, and an oak end table on which rested a copy of what seemed to be Dryads for Dummies, but all this Mike ignored in favor of a counter standing near the door. He slipped behind it and grabbed a pair of keys dangling on a hook. He moved to leave. “That’s it?” Kate asked.

“That’s it,” Mike said.

She followed him out the door, hurrying to match his pace. “For a camp that doesn’t want its campers to leave, didn’t that seem a little… easy?”

“If you want to leave, you have to get past the harpies,” Mike explained. He turned the corner of the Big House, making his way down the side of the building. The abandoned volleyball court sent shivers down Kate’s spine, though she knew it was irrational. Like a school with empty halls. “They’re not too worried about people making it to the keys.”

“Should we be worried? About the harpies?” Kate asked. She imagined ghoulish, disfigured women in rags, with gnarled teeth and claws the length of her forearm. Worry seemed reasonable.

“Only once we get into the van.”

“That’s not how worry works,” Kate said, moving closer to the satyr and tightening her grip on her bident. “Once you tell me we’ll have to worry, I start to worry right away.”

“We could always turn back,” Mike said hopefully. He shot Kate a glance from the corner of his eyes, pleading with her silently. She shook her head, smiling softly.

“Sorry,” she said quietly.

He shrugged, as if to say ‘oh well,’ and kept walking. The van was parked a few feet ahead of them, a bright white van with ‘Delphi Strawberry Service’ printed on the side in bold red letters. “You should probably put your weapon away,” Mike said, slipping around to the driver’s side. “It won’t do you much good. Kill a harpy and you’re in even more trouble than you will be for sneaking out.” Kate hesitated, then slid her bident into its sheath; she was getting into a car anyway, she told herself, you won’t be able to use it. She grabbed the door handle, pulling it open and went to climb inside. Her bident hit the top of the door with a thud. Kate pulled back and angled her body, but the weapon simply hit the van again, blocking her from climbing into the front seat. She slipped the strap over her shoulder and pushed the bident through the door and into the back seat. Sighing, she climbed in after it. Mike snickered, and Kate felt herself flush a bright red.

“Just drive,” she muttered, looking out the window.

“Buckle up,” Mike said. The key hung loosely in his hand, hovering near the ignition. His fingers shook.

“You haven’t even started the car yet,” Kate protested, but she reached for the seat belt anyway. The buckle locked into place with a snap, and Kate sat back, eyeing Mike. “I’m buckled up,” she said.

Mike took a deep breath and turned the key. The van roared to life, headlights shining obnoxiously bright into the darkness of the night, and immediately, a blood-curdling screech rang through the valley. Mike pulled the gear to reverse and slammed his foot on the gas, sending the van careening backwards before he pressed hard on the brakes, switching gear to drive. He sent the car barreling forward just as a shadowy figure darted out from behind the Big House. Mike swerved, barely missing it as they sped past, and Kate spun around in her seat, eyes wide. Her imagination hadn’t been very far off. It was a woman, or at least part of one; it had the haggard face of a human and the body and wings and talons of a bird, and as the van had passed, Kate thought the headlights had glinted off of fangs. They were gone so fast that she couldn’t be sure, but the thought left her in a state of perpetual trepidation. She spun back to the front, focusing on the trail ahead of them as hard as she could.

Mike, for his part, seemed remarkably composed for someone who had almost hit a bird lady with a van. His fingers were tight on the wheel and his eyes were ride, but his breathing was steady and he kept his foot firmly on the gas. “Is that it?” Kate asked tentatively.

Another screech pierced the night, and unlike the first, this one came from far too close. Kate glanced out the window, but there was no one there - only trees and grass rushing past. Then she remembered. Wings.  
A harpy crashed into their windshield, dropping out of the sky like a rock. The glass shattered, spraying the inside with shards of shrapnel, and Kate barely managed to cover her face with her arm before it hit her. Mike screamed, and the harpy screeched, and Kate found it very hard to stop herself from screaming, but now the harpy was grabbing Mike, and she had to move, had to do something. She glanced around helplessly, fighting the urge to reach for her bident. She did the only thing she could think to do; she flipped the button for the windshield wipers.

She had never seen windshield wipers function without a windshield wiper, but function they did. They smacked the harpy in the side, and though she hissed in surprise, she didn’t let go. Instead, she dug her talons deeper into Mike’s shoulder, blood bubbling from underneath her hand, and his shout grew louder. Not knowing what else to do, Kate lunged for the harpy. She latched onto the creature, intent on prying her out of Mike.

As soon as she touched the harpy, her vision shifted. She could still feel her hand wrapped tightly around the harpy’s wrist, still feel the sting of the glass and the wind whipping across her face, but what she was seeing didn’t match up. She saw red cells, fragile bones, neurons and pumping lungs. And a brilliant beating heart. Her grip tightened on the harpy’s wrist. Faintly, she could hear its cries, could hear Mike shouting her name, but all she could hear was the thundering of the heart and the rush of the blood racing through her veins. You could stop it, a voice whispered, you could take the heart and crush it until it stops beating. All you have to do is - 

“Kate!”

Her hand fell back to her side. Mike was shouting her name, glancing at her in between watching the road, and she blinked, readjusting. The harpy was gone. Kate sat back in her seat, breathing deeply. “What happened?” she asked.

“You tell me,” Mike said. “One minute the harpy was tearing into me like I was her last meal and the next you were grabbing her. She couldn’t get out of here fast enough.” Mike shifted his grip on the wheel, obviously anxious. “What did you do?”

“I… Nothing,” Kate said. She stretched out her hands, examining them in the dim glow of the headlights. There were several cuts, gashes where the broken glass had buried into her skin. The steady light cast her palms into shadows. Hands. Normal hands. “Nothing,” she repeated softly. Kate shifted her gaze out of the broken windshield, the only sound the howling of the wind as the van raced down the empty road. There were no streetlights, no roadstops. They were in the middle of nowhere.

Mike cleared his throat, and Kate thought he was going to ask about the harpy again. “You should get some rest,” he said instead, eyes remaining fixed on the road. “It’s a couple hours away, so you should get some rest. I’ll wake you when we get there.” The satyr’s voice was calm, not shaking as it had been earlier, and Kate watched him in silence. He had blood dripping down his face, matting his shirt to his shoulder, and his hair was in disarray. Kate placed a hand on his arm.

“Thank you,” she murmured. For driving her, for fighting with her; in that moment, she was thanking him for everything.

He smirked, sparing a glance her way. “I’d say anytime, but I’d really like it if we didn’t make this a habit.”

Kate laughed, leaning her head against the cool glass of her window. “Agreed,” she said. And with that, she took Mike’s advice and slept.


	6. Home Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kate returns home and finds someone waiting for her.

The tunnels descended into darkness, only the torch clutched in Kate’s hand lighting the way. The flickering flames sent the shadows into a wild dance, casting an eerie glow along the rough stone walls, and Kate shivered, struggling to see further down the path in front of her. The caves were silent, empty save for her. At least, that’s what she hoped. Her feet carried her forward as though on their own, the whisper of her feet against the ground the only sound in the darkness.

She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, or even where she was, but she kept walking, holding the torch to the walls as she passed. Her memory was shrouded in haze. What was she doing here? She couldn’t remember; she couldn’t remember, but she knew it was important. A strange marking on the wall caught her eye, and she stopped to investigate. Six lines, etched with ash - a torch and a burning flame. She felt her heart begin to race.  
And she heard footsteps.

Kate jumped, hand loosening in shock. The torch slipped through her fingers, clattering to the ground and extinguishing the flame, dowsing the tunnels in darkness. She didn’t hesitate; she turned around and ran.

The sound of her footsteps pounding on pavement mixed with the footsteps behind her, a booming in her ears that matched only the pounding of her heart. She ran a hand along the wall beside her and waited for it to give out, waited for the turn that she knew would come. The stone underneath her fingers disappeared; she was at an intersection. Kate threw her body to the right and froze, pressing herself against the wall as tightly as she could.

The steps grew closer, so close she could hear harsh, hurried breathing, and she squeezed her mouth shut, forcing herself to remain quiet. The footsteps stopped. The breathing loudened. Squinting, Kate peered through the darkness and saw nothing. She heard footsteps make their way past, and then there was silence.

Kate let out a quiet breath, shuffling backwards as softly as she could. She only got a few steps before she backed into something hard. A pair of arms circled around her waist, pulling her tightly against their torso, and she tilted her head back to scream. A quick hand clapped across her mouth, warm breath tickling her ear as they leaned in. Their lips brushed her skin softly as they spoke.

“You shouldn’t have stopped running, Kate.”

She tried to reach out, fought to get her hands free so that she could make contact, but he kept her arms pressed tightly to her sides. He laughed, a hard, grating sound, and held her tighter. “Say hello to your father for me.”

She felt her bones crack beneath the pressure of his grip, a fresh burst of pain like lightning shooting through her body. She died with the sound of his laughter echoing in her ears.

 

“Kate.” A gentle hand shook her shoulder, and Kate jumped, smacking her head against the glass of the window. She groaned, pressing her hand to her temple. “I was just gonna - are you okay?” Kate groaned again by way of response, and opened her eyes, blinking blearily in the early morning light. Mike stared down at her, concerned, but with a twinkle in his eyes that betrayed his amusement. “We’re here.”

Kate didn’t even bother to check that it was true. The memory of a crushing grip and a world consumed by darkness played over and over in her head, and she shuddered. Wanting to be anywhere but where she was, Kate turned the handle and slid out of the van. 

Her feet hit solid pavement; her solid pavement, the same street where this whole nightmare began. She peered down the road, worrying only slightly that she wasn’t alone. Seeing nothing, she turned back to the van. Mike had remained inside, hands still resting lightly on the wheel. “I’ll wait here,” he said, staring at her pointedly. Kate got the message. Come back. She felt a fresh pang of guilt and nodded anyway, turning her back to the van.

Her house was dark; no lights shone in the windows, no curtains drawn. She narrowed her eyes, searching the whole front of the house with her gaze, but she had been right. None of the curtains were drawn. She rolled her shoulders in a shrug and started up the path, ignoring the voice of doubt in the corner of her mind. When she was halfway up the path, she noticed the door, hanging slightly ajar. A smell like rotting meat hit her nose.

The voice became impossible to ignore.

Kate reached uncertainly behind her, hand feeling for the reassuring weight of her bident, but her fingers came up empty. She felt her stomach drop; her weapon lay forgotten in the back seat of the van. But she was at the door now, and this was her house, her mom; you won’t need it, she told herself. You’ll be fine. Taking a deep breath, Kate pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The house was empty, almost untouched since Kate had last seen it. Any fear that her mother had panicked in her absence was assuaged, and she would have felt relieved had the pungent odor not grown stronger the deeper into the house she went. “Mom?” Kate called. The living room was empty, and the dining room. She was about to make her way upstairs when a dark shape on the kitchen floor caught her eye. A foot.

Kate’s body grew cold, her heart constricting as she crossed through the dining room, passed through the doorway of the kitchen. As she saw her mom lying dead on the floor.

She was left, crumpled on the ground, rotting away in a pool of thick, red liquid. A long gash ran across her chest, and two more along her sides. Two heavy coins rested on her closed eyelids.

“What a mess they made.”

Kate spun, hand reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there. She cursed silently and backed further into the kitchen, blood soaking into her shoes.

The man in front of her was made of shadows. His body swirled, constantly shifting, a maelstrom of shades of black, and his eyes… out of the ever-changing gloom stared two onyx orbs. He stood in the doorway, if shadows could be said to stand, and what sun that managed to stream in through the windows was drawn to him. It vanished into him, leaving the house in a subdued light. Here was a darkness so primal, Kate felt it in her core.

Her palms began to sting. Kate uncurled her fists, fingernails bloodied. “Who’s they?” she asked. Even she knew her voice sounded pitiful. She was unarmed, and even if she had her bident, she wasn’t sure what good it would do against a man without a body. But just as she thought that, the shadows melted away, peeling off into the corners of the room until all that was left was a middle-aged man in a suit. He stepped forward, dress shoes clacking on the floor, until he was close enough to touch.

Kate let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. She could see his face now; a strong jaw, sharp nose, bushy eyebrows. She could see a human, and humans she knew. His mouth was curled down, eyebrows tensed ever so slightly. He wanted to appear concerned. “The monsters,” he said softly. Sympathetically.

Kate stiffened, backing away subconsciously. Her foot hit something soft, and she grimaced. Sorry mom.

The man ignored her, walking slowly around her mother’s corpse. He perused the body with something akin to pity and…. Resignedness. Like it was natural for humans to die, and all he could do was feel bad for the ones that couldn’t survive. Anger began to burn in her stomach, simmering resolutely with her fear. She refused to move out of the way as he neared. “The gods let this happen, you know,” he mused. “They don’t care for the mortals they leave behind. Not even their children.” He looked up at Kate. “They don’t care for you, Kate.”

“You’re not a god?” Kate asked, forcing her voice to remain calm. “What are you? A monster?” She shot a sideways glance at the door; he had rotated now, deeper into the kitchen than Kate. If she was fast enough, she might be able to make it to the van. But no. The motionless body of her mother caught her eye, and she knew she couldn’t leave this man alone with her.

“I am a god,” he said. “But I do not stand with them.” Moving closer to Kate, he captured her jaw in a firm hand, eyes searching hers imploringly. “You mustn’t either, Kate.” She made as though to slip away, and to her surprise, he let her. Kate inched backwards reflexively, but the fear was gone. It faded the moment she saw the plea in his eyes. “They take and they punish and they leave the rest of the world to die at the hands of abominations, of mistakes that the gods themselves made. And they leave,” he said coldly, “letting their children grow up without a parent and without someone to tell them what they can do and who they are before it’s too late.”

Kate narrowed her eyes. She searched the man’s face for a long moment. The waving brown hair, the chocolate eyes, the strong nose. “Hades?”

The man raised an eyebrow, face impassive. “No, young one. I am not your father.”

A wave of disappointment rose before she could fight it down. “Who are you, then?” she asked, though now she thought it hardly mattered.

“Were I any other god,” he said, “in any other situation, you would be blasted from where you stood.” The god smiled, a cold, shifting smile. The corners of his mouth were twisted in dry amusement. “My name is Erebus, god of darkness. And I would like for you to come with me.”

“No,” Kate said automatically. A flash of anger crossed his face so quickly, she was sure she must’ve imagined it, but just as soon as it appeared, it vanished. Kate swallowed, forcing herself to continue. “I shouldn’t have to explain my choice.”

“No,” the god said. He met her gaze, eyes emotionless; empty in a way Kate could only associate with the otherworldly. “I suppose you shouldn’t.” Kneeling slowly, he rested a hand on her mother’s body, lips moving in a silent prayer. He slid two quick fingers over her eyes, closing them. Placing two silvery coins on her lids. Erebus ceased his muttering, looking up to Kate’s confused eyes. “Drachma. Payment for the ferry that will deliver her to death.” He straightened, the corners of his jacket dripping red from where they had rested in the pool of blood. He didn’t seem to mind, ignoring the sticky material in favor of his front pocket. From here, he withdrew a shimmering pendant. Erebus held it out to her. 

Kate narrowed her eyes. It was a necklace, an ornate metal torch hanging lightly from a simple chain. The flames were gold, the torch bronze, and the piece seemed to glow with a subdued light. She wondered if it was a side effect of the darkness hanging about the god like a cloud. Kate raised an eyebrow, making no move to accept the necklace. “Why?” she asked.

He raised his arms, gripping the jewelry in both hands, moving to loop the device around her neck. Her hand darted up, catching his arm through his sleeve. Immediately, a wave of cold ran through Kate’s body, a chill that raced through her very blood. Erebus yanked his arm back, studying her curiously. Almost fearfully. Kate shook the thought away; he was a god. He had no reason to fear her. “I would advise you not to touch me,” he said quietly.

Kate nodded wordlessly, rubbing her arms as quickly as she could. A numbness had spread through them so complete her arms no longer seemed a part of her. She breathed out, fighting off the chill.

Erebus examined the necklace, running a soft finger over the intricately carved designs. “What do you know of Prometheus?” he asked.

Kate threw her mind back, struggling to remember her mini lesson at the cabins. Poseidon, Zeus, Hermes, Hecate. No Prometheus. “Nothing,” she admitted hesitantly. She studied Erebus’s face, looking for another flash of anger, but none came. He simply nodded, disappointed but not surprised.

“He is a Titan, older than the gods. When Zeus and his siblings chose to rebel against Kronos - their father,” he clarified, noting Kate’s confusion, and now annoyance spilled into his voice. “Kronos was the Titan father of Zeus, Demeter, Poseidon, Hades. The original gods. Of course, he also ate them, which makes it less surprising that Zeus would lead a rebellion. In this rebellion, Prometheus sided with the gods.”

“He ate them?”

“Whole, but that hardly matters,” Erebus said dismissively. Kate fought back the urge to point out that it obviously did to them. “What matters is that afterwards, Zeus and the gods created mankind. Instead of allowing them to advance, Zeus forbade them access to the one thing that could enable their progress: fire.”

The glistening gold of the flames shone a bit brighter, a shimmering beacon in the dark house. “Prometheus disagreed. He thought that mankind should be allowed to achieve their fullest potential, and so he stole away in the night, flaming torch in hand.

“When Zeus discovered what he had done, he was furious. He ordered Prometheus punished, chained to a rock for all eternity, and every day, he sent an eagle to peck out his liver. He left him there. Helpless. Suffering.” Erebus trailed off, eyes distant. He closed his fist over the necklace so hard his knuckles turned white. Then he sighed and let his fingers fall open, refocusing on Kate. “It was Hercules that freed him. A demigod, like you, that saw the injustice.”

“So that torch…” Kate said, trailing off. 

“Is the symbol of Prometheus. The gods are cruel, Kate. Prometheus is tired, and he isn’t the only one.”

“So they want to fight?” she asked. She stared shaking her head, backing through the doorway and out of the kitchen. No. This wasn’t her world. She had no part living in it, and no part fighting in it. Especially not among deities.

“Wouldn’t you?” Erebus asked. He remained where he was, standing tall in front of her mother as though a guardian rather than a god. He seemed to soften slightly, letting his cold, stiff figure relax just enough so that she noticed. “You don’t know yet, but you will. And when you do, when you see so much horror and pain and suffering that you can’t ignore it anymore, this necklace will guide you.” He held out the necklace, letting it dangle between his fingers.

Kate swallowed. Gathered herself. Then she took a deep breath and stuck out her hand. He let the pendant slide from his fingertips and into her palm; the pendant burned warmly against her skin. Kate slipped it over her neck, fumbling with the clasp, wincing as her hair was captured in the metal. It rested neatly against her chest.

“Prometheus’s Army will be waiting.”


	7. Return to Camp Half-Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kate says goodbye.

She wasn’t sure how long she knelt there. All she was sure of was the cold tile pressing against her knees and the limp figure of her mother, crumpled against the ground. Kate felt her fingers running through her mother’s hair, felt the tears streaming down her face, but it felt as though she was miles away, watching it happen to someone else. She refused to believe it was her, because if it was her then everything was real and her mom was dead and she was alone in a world where monsters existed and gods left you to die. Kate refused to believe that.

But with every second that passed as she knelt in the kitchen, it was getting harder and harder to refuse the truth. Kate’s eyes fluttered closed, and she bent her head low. I’m alone, I’m alone, I’m alone - 

“Kate?”

She didn’t open her eyes. Footsteps sounded in the entryway, then the dining room, stopping just behind her. There was a gasp. A consoling hand placed gently on her shoulder. “Kate…”

In that moment, Kate despised the sympathy in Mike’s voice. She opened her eyes, hastily wiping away her falling tears. Her hands left streaks of red across her cheeks and eyelids, and she looked up at Mike bloody and tear-stained. Wordlessly, he pulled her to him, holding Kate tightly against his body. She simply sat there, staring blankly behind him and into the house.

His body was warm, and his embrace should have been comforting. It is comforting, Kate tried to tell herself, it is, but she couldn’t fight off the knowledge that there was only one person she wanted to be hugged by, and no matter how kind Mike was, it would never be him. But she wrapped her arms slowly around him, leaned her against his shoulder, and cried. Her sobs shook her body, her wails echoing against the silence of the house, and Mike held her, held her so tightly she thought she almost couldn’t breathe. It was a moment before she realized she was clinging to him just as tightly, her last lifeline in the chaos of morning. Her face was buried in his shirt. The wetness of the tears glued the fabric to her cheeks. When she finally pulled away, the soft green material was stained red.

“Sorry,” Kate muttered. She ran another hand over her face and snuffled, avoiding Mike’s gaze. His arms were still half around her, and at her apology, he squeezed her lightly.

“Whenever you need,” was all he said. He pushed himself to his feet. Kate’s eyes followed him, focusing halfheartedly on his extended hand. She sucked in a breath and cast a long, last look at her mother.

She took Mike’s hand. Pulling her to her feet, Mike led Kate back through the house, maneuvering her around chairs and out of the way of walls. As Kate passed through the front door, she didn’t look back. She didn’t look back until she was strapped into the van and miles away already.

Goodbye, mom.

 

The ride back to Camp Half-Blood seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Maybe it was the fact that she remained awake, or maybe it was the macabre images clinging to her mind, the putrid scent lingering in her nose. With Mike’s encouragement, she had tried to rest; even the terror of her nightmares would be welcome in lieu of her reality. But though she closed her eyes and wished as deeply as she could, her mind remained active. Her eyes kept forcing themselves open.

So she was wide awake when the wheels of the van hit rough gravel and the expansive valley became visible in the cracked windshield. Kate glanced over at Mike. The satyr was noticeably exhausted, eyes drooping before snapping back to attention. This cycle had continued for much of the journey, and in those moment, Kate’s guilt overwhelmed her grief. She had offered to drive, but Mike said it would be a cold day in the Underworld before he got in a car steered by a fifteen year-old. Kate suspected that wasn’t his real reason.

“Home sweet Camp.”

They’d rolled to a stop behind the Big House. Shifting the gear to park, Mike leaned back against the headrest, eyes fluttering closed. Kate felt another pang of guilt, leaned over her armrest, and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. Immediately, a small smile slid across Mike’s face, and he gingerly opened an eye. “That happy to be back?”

“That happy that you were with me,” Kate replied, pressing the release on her seat belt. Mike mimicked her motion and slipped out of the car, closing the door as quietly as he could behind him. He leaned through the window, arms crossed and resting against the base of the opening.

“I told you. Whenever you need, Kate,” he said. He looked off to the side, head tilted. “Unless it has to do with spiders, or tunnels, or Mr. D-”

“Mr. D?”

“That god is terrifying,” Mike insisted. “Seriously. You don’t want to see him when he’s lost at pinochle. Or when you’ve given him a Coke instead of a Diet.” He shuddered, eyes staring off into a distant memory. Kate managed a grin, and Mike’s gaze refocused, expression softening. “Keep that smile. You’ll need it.”

Kate popped open the passenger door and jumped out, reaching back over the seat for her bident. The weapon’s weight rested comfortingly against her hand, and she slid it gratefully back into its sheath. “For?” she asked, sliding the door closed.

“For them,” Mike said sullenly. Kate looked up.

Standing just under the shadows of the Big House were Chiron and a portly man in a Hawaiian shirt. Clutched in the hand of the man was a Diet Coke. Mr. D., Kate thought and shuddered.

She saw Mike gulp, body tensing. Then he steeled himself and rounded the van, stopping just in front of the odd duo. Kate joined him, hesitant, moving so that she was standing slightly in front of Mike. They were an odd couple themselvea, come to think of it. Blood-stained, exhausted, red-faced. Well, red-faced on her part. Kate met Chiron’s eyes defiantly - not daring to do so with Mr. D. If someone was getting into trouble, it most certainly wouldn’t be Mike; and after everything that had happened already, Camp punishment seemed inordinately miniscule.

“Kit Morgan.” Mr. D’s voice was dismissive, nonchalant.

“Kate Moreau,” Chiron corrected gently.

“Bah,” Mr. D said. “Like it matters. Kit, Kat, whoever, you’re sentenced to two months of kitchen duty. Report after every meal, bring your own lava gloves, and do try not to burn off your hands. Apparently, I forgot to warn the last bunch and Zeus blamed me for the loss of appendages.”

“Two months?” Mike chimed in, incredulous. “Mr. D, don’t you think that’s-”

“Do you really wish to argue, satyr?” Mr. D’s voice hardened, the heat of his temper clinging to every word. “I’d hate to make your punishment worse.” 

Mike froze, muscles tight. Then he let out a breath and softened. “No, Mr. D,” he said calmly. “Sorry, Mr. D.”

The god’s anger seemed to fizzle out, vanishing entirely as he took a quiet sip from his Diet Coke. “Your guardian duties will be suspended immediately. Until further notice, you will collect arrows at the archery range.”

Mike deflated, slumping where he stood, and Kate had to force herself not to reach out. He wouldn’t want comfort, not from her. “Please, Mr. D,” Kate pleaded. “It wasn’t his fault. It was my idea, and he was only trying to help.”

“Your idea or not,” Chiron interjected, “he knowingly broke camp rules. You, Ms. Moreau, have been a camper for less than a day. Mr. Pinebrush has been a camper for over twenty years. He should-”

“I should have taken her sooner.”

Centaur, god, and demigod alike stared wide-eyed at the satyr. His jaw was set, voice confident, but when Kate looked into his eyes, all she saw was regret. “Maybe if I had, we could have saved her mother,” he said softly. He met Chiron’s gaze, pleading wordlessly for the director to understand. He did.

His hind legs shifted, and he ran a slow hand over his beard. “Let’s continue this inside.” Though Mr. D grumbled, he didn’t disagree, and Kate felt Mike sigh. She squeezed his hand reassuringly, taking comfort in the fact that it was her turn to console someone else for a change, and followed Chiron around the building.

“Heads up!”

Kate ducked as a volleyball sailed overhead, slamming into the wooden siding. Laughter followed it, and a red-headed camper with bright, flushed cheeks. Collecting the ball with a hurried apology, he ran back towards the volleyball court. She watched after him, noticing for the first time that morning (afternoon?) all of the campers absorbed in their activities. Camp really could go on no matter what was happening outside, Kate thought to herself. She had noticed that yesterday, too. The joy and excitement of the valley seemed so out of place amidst her grief, her confusion, her sorrow, and she had to remind herself that it was actually her that was out of place. She shook back her long brown hair, and with it, her thoughts.

The porch was empty as they ascended the stairs, the well-worn wood creaking beneath their feet. Mr. D remained outside, settling heavily at what looked to be a card table. Several decks were scattered across the surface in an organized chaos, and he gazed at the deck in front of him discontentedly. “Don’t hurry back, Chiron,” he called over his shoulder. He took another sip of Diet Coke as the front doors slammed shut behind Mike.

Chiron led them into a back office, a fire roaring happily in the fireplace despite the ninety degree weather. A leopard’s head hung over the mantle, a massive thing with yellow and black-spotted fur. It’s startlingly green eyes seemed to follow Kate as she moved across the study. As Chiron tossed what looked to be a sausage into its open mouth, Kate realized she wasn’t imagining it. The leopard’s jaws snapped shut over the meat, and the creature chewed it hungrily. Kate swallowed just as the leopard did.

If Mike thought this unusual, he didn’t react, instead settling into an armchair beside the fire. The satyr seemed to sink into it, molding into the copper cushions until his face was just barely visible. Kate eyed the other armchair warily and questioned her desire to sit. After a moment’s deliberation, she perched on the edge of the chair. It was soft, so soft compared to the hard seats of the van, and Kate found herself leaning back, pushing herself as far into the comfort as possible.

Chiron wheeled himself into view, horse half confined in his magical wheelchair. Kate was grateful for his shorter appearance; his human appearance. He turned to Mike. “Now. Tell me what happened.”

“I guess you already know what happened at Camp,” Mike said sheepishly. “Kate found me in the strawberry fields. She wanted a chance to say goodbye to her mom, and after everything that happened… well, I thought it would be the least I could do. And I didn’t want her trying to go on her own, with no one to protect her if something happened.” He paused, searching for a reaction from Chiron, but when the centaur refused to oblige, he continued. “That’s sort of it. We took the keys, took the van. When the engine started, the harpies caught on and chased us a couple miles past the camp line. That’s what the broken windshield is from. I don’t really understand why they went back so soon,” Mike said, glancing quickly at Kate, “but they left us alone after that, and it was quiet all the way back to Kate’s house. Then…” He trailed off, and Chiron raised an eyebrow.

Mike looked at Kate expectantly, and in that moment, she realized he didn’t actually know anything that happened after that. When he came into the house, he had simply let her cry, and when they returned to the van, she had rested her head against the window, trying desperately to fall asleep. Kate took a deep breath. Wrung her hands.

“The door was already open,” Kate said quietly. Chiron leaned forward, struggling to catch her words, and Mike found himself doing the same. “So I knew something wasn’t right. And there was this smell…” The memory came rushing to the front of her mind, and she stopped, frozen by her grief. A hand rested gently on her shoulder, the warmth anchoring her. Kate forced herself to continue.

“She was in the kitchen,” Kate said. “She was already dead, and there was blood everywhere.” If she stuck to the facts, she could make it, she told herself. If she stuck only to the facts, she could tell Chiron what he wanted to hear. But did she tell him everything? Erebus’s words echoed in her head. Chiron ran a camp for the gods, alongside a god, and Prometheus’s Army opposed everything they stood for. His warnings of their cruelty rang in her ears, but as she looked into the centaurs face, they no longer made sense. Camp Half-Blood, Mike, Emma; they had offered her the only kindness she had seen since her world was flipped on its head. And wasn’t it too strange that Erebus just happened to be there? She hadn’t seen her mother die, didn’t know if his words were true - for all she knew, Erebus could have been responsible. She felt a growing sense of dread, an uncertainty that blanketed her mind. There were too many possibilities.

“Kate?” Chiron coaxed.

“There was someone else there.” Right, well. She couldn’t go back now. “A god. He said his name was Erebus and that monsters had killed my mother. He said that he wanted to help me, to take me somewhere with him.” Her words flew out in a rush, like a flood that had finally broken down the dam. “He said that the gods had abandoned me, that they were cruel and they didn’t care if I lived or died, but Prometheus did care and I should come with him so that I could meet him. He gave me this,” she said, dangling the torch pendant between her fingers, “so that I could find him when I saw for myself. And…”

“And?”

“And that was it,” Kate said. She met Chiron’s eyes, loose strands of hair hanging in front of her red streaked face. “He disappeared. Mike came in after a while, led me outside. And then we left.”

“So the blood?” he asked quietly.

“Is hers.”

Chiron nodded, face tight. He sat back in his wheelchair, mind absorbed in his thoughts, hand absentmindedly stroking his beard. Kate shot a glance at Mike, concerned, but the satyr was fast asleep, head nestled among the cushions. Kate pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around herself for protection.

“You must have had a long night.” Chiron’s voice was calm. Fatherly. Kate simply watched him, tightening her hold around herself. “I’m sorry to say it must continue. From what you have told me, our trouble is far from over.” Again, Kate said nothing. She had known that would be true, and still she had hoped desperately for Chiron to tell her otherwise.

“Gods can be cold, Kate,” Chiron said. “They have lived longer than you or I could hope to dream, and the years have made them cold. So too can humans be cruel, and even more so can the Titans. Everyone has the potential for both good and bad; it simply depends on what you choose to see. The gods have made mistakes, it is true. More than I care to count. But they have also achieved great successes in their efforts to make amends. Remember that.”

“I will,” Kate said. She didn’t know if she was lying, didn’t know if she truly believed him, but with those two little words, Chiron seemed to relax immensely. He offered her a small smile, wheeling himself over to the door of the study.  
“Go get cleaned up. I’ll send someone to your cabin to collect you afterwards.”

“Collect me?” Kate asked. She pushed herself to her feet, loathing the absence of the soft cushions. “Collect me for what?”

“It is time you met young Rachel Elizabeth Dare.”


End file.
